Title: Flight Into Egypt: Doing It Right
Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary: It's been two years since they left their
old lives behind and arrived in Alexandria, MT.
There have been big changes in the Hale (Mulder)
household, but there are dark clouds on the horizon.
Back home, the search for the truth continues.
Category: MSR, A, Mytharc
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I'm delving a bit more into the 'new'
mytharc, but I'm still not making any money. No
copyright infringement intended.
Archive: Yes
Date first posted: May 17, 2004
SPECIAL NOTE: I'm doing what I swore I would
never do -- I'm posting a Work in Progress. I have a
plan, the story is complete in my head and outlined
on paper. In short, I will not leave you hanging. I'll
be posting it in 10 parts, one part each week for the
next couple of months. For a few weeks, you can
only find the parts on Ephemeral and on Dana K
Scully's sites in Brazil (did I mention this is an
international WIP?) In a few weeks, I'll have all the
parts that have been posted on my website. Just
don't yell at me if you don't find them there
immediately. If you are like me, and want to wait
for the whole story before starting it, I'm cool with
that. It should be finished July 18.
This is being 'simulcast' in Portuguese because
Dana was sweet enough to offer. Hugs, Dana!
Straight jackets can be forwarded to
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com. Prayers for my
sanity greatly appreciated.
Flight into Egypt: Doing it Right
by Vickie Moseley
May 19, 2004
Arlington National Cemetery
12:30 am
The day was bright, the gentle breeze came off the
river and danced around the white stones standing
like humble sentries over the bodies of those lying
at rest. The trees were finally in full leaf, the
blossoms of the azaleas were dipping and bending
in the breeze in the planters near the gates. It was
spring, the smells, the feel of the air, all things
spoke of a reawakening. But in some hearts, there
was little reason to feel joyful.
Walter Skinner stood a respectful distance and
solemnly bowed his head, ever mindful of the tears
of the woman standing next to him.
"I just wish . . ." The quiet air was broken by the
raspy whisper which caught on the breeze and
caressed his ear before dancing among the white
and bronze monuments at their feet.
He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Mrs.
Scully," he said and then wondered why he'd even
bothered to speak. He had no words of comfort or
solace. For his part, he didn't know if the
headstones at their feet were accurate or just another
part of the jigsaw puzzle of lies and deceits that
continued to rule his life.
Maggie Scully shook her head, wiping the tears
from her cheeks. "They're together. Either here or
somewhere else, I know they're together. If that's
all I have, I have to be satisfied with that."
"I'm so sorry," Skinner mumbled, not daring to clear
his throat for fear if the lump was dislodged, it
would lead to a dam break of emotions.
She smiled up at him and for a fleeting second, he
saw her daughter in her eyes. "I know you are, Mr.
Skinner. I want you to know how much I
appreciate you coming here with me today. I just
didn't want this day to go unnoticed. It's the only
connection I have with them. Except this." She
fingered the locket at her neck, not needing to open
it to know the three pictures the tiny frames held.
Dana, little William and Fox. The images
painstakingly carved out of larger photographs to fit
in the locket and be her constant companion.
"It's the least I could do, Mrs. Scully," he rasped.
She smiled again and patted his arm. "It's time you
got back to the office." She started toward her car,
parked just yards away on the road winding through
Arlington National Cemetery.
He didn't follow immediately. Instead he looked
down at the headstones, knowing they were nothing
more than memorial tributes to the agents he hadn't
seen in exactly two years. It had been a fight to get
one of the stones in place, politics and conspiracy
dueling it out only to be placated by an innocuous
memorial resolution at the hands of one US Senator.
But it was only fitting that the two stones sit side by
side, in this hallowed place.
Dana Scully
Fox Mulder
Special Agents, Fallen in the Line of Duty.
Skinner closed his eyes and let a prayer float
silently toward the cloudless May sky. If he could
only find the answers.
St. Peter's Hospital
Helena, MT
same day
12:30 pm
"Push, Dana! One more, push!" the doctor shouted
from behind her surgical mask. "C'mon, you've
done this once today already, this should be a
breeze!"
"I think, -- pant, hufff -- this one -- pant -- is bigger!"
Dana gritted out through clenched teeth.
"Five pounds, four ounces, Mrs. Hale," said the
nurse standing near the warming bed. "Nineteen
and a half inches long and lots of strawberry blond
hair." In the warmer lay a squalling red-faced
infant, already wrapped in a bright pink blanket.
"Get ready, Ellery. This one will be faster," the
doctor warned. Fox Mulder looked over the
draping at his partner of eleven years and tried to
smile with his eyes. In reality, he was scared
shitless.
"You're doing fine," the nurse closest to the head of
the bed assured Dana, who was panting and sweaty,
as red faced as their newborn daughter.
"I thought we discussed -- pant -- a C-section
-- pant --," Dana huffed out between her breaths.
"Yes, we did," the doctor agreed. "And I firmly
remember someone telling me they wanted to do
this 'the old fashioned way'. I even put it in my
notes."
"Next time -- huff, pant -- _he_ doesn't get a vote!"
Dana said with a glare at the man now seated
between her legs.
"Hey, no fair picking on the dad," Mulder heard the
nurse beside him tell the assembled masses. "He's
been doing his part."
So far his part had been to catch their first daughter
and cut the umbilical cord. That should have been
the end of it. But never one to do anything easily,
his partner had surprised him when she'd announced
early in her pregnancy that the doctor thought she
might be carrying twins. A sonogram confirmed
the suspicion and now Mulder was being pressed
into service for the second time that day to help
deliver their other daughter into the world.
"One more big one, Dana and this is all over," the
doctor assured her.
"Unless there's another hiding in there," Mulder
muttered and caught Scully's eyes. In spite of
herself, she grinned.
"You better hope not," she warned him. And then
she drew in all her breath and pushed with all her
might. The tiny crown of blood-slicked hair soon
became a full head and face. The doctor's voice
was reminding him to turn the baby to deliver the
shoulders, but Mulder was ahead of the game and
didn't need direction. The only thought on his mind
was that this was the most extreme possibility he
would ever encounter -- that he and Scully had
helped create not just one incredible life together,
but now three lives. He couldn't stop the tears that
flowed freely down his face as the baby slipped into
his gloved hands and he held her tenderly in his
arms.
"Oh, god, Scu -- " He caught his words just in time.
"Sweetheart," he amended. "She's beautiful." The
nurse had taken the baby and was handing him a set
of clamps and a pair of scissors. He applied the
clamps as he'd been instructed and snipped the cord,
separating his daughter from his lover's womb.
"Oh, god, they're so beautiful," he whispered again.
"My turn, Ellery," the doctor said cheerfully. "Why
don't you four get acquainted while I finish up down
here," she said and Mulder moved out of the seat
he'd occupied to give the obstetrician room to work.
"Number two is five pounds, _six_ ounces," another
nurse called out from the scale. "And 20 inches
long."
"So they aren't identical," Mulder said as he cradled
Scully and the first of the twins.
"Identical is the genetic make up, love. The weights
can vary by a few ounces," Dana said with a tired
smile. "Hey, there, sweetheart!" she cooed to the
baby in her arms. "It's about time I got to hold you.
See Daddy? Do you see your Daddy standing
there?" The infant had her gaze locked on Mulder's
mask-covered face. He reached out his gloved
finger and the neonate grabbed it in her fist, giving
it a firm squeeze.
"She's strong," Mulder commented through shining
eyes.
"Here's number two, Dad," the nurse said and
handed him the second baby, also wrapped in a pink
blanket, but this one was imprinted with tiny white
bunnies. "What are the names of these future Miss
Americas?"
Mulder looked over at Scully and she looked back,
worried expression firmly in place. "We don't have
names yet," she said apologetically.
"Actually, we have too many names," Mulder
amended. "We're just having some trouble
narrowing the field."
"Our son wasn't named until he was three days old,"
Scully explained. "We sort of like to get used to
them first."
Mulder held the second infant out to Scully and
with apparently practiced ease, they switched so
that Mulder was holding the first baby in his arms
while Scully cradled the other child on her chest.
The second baby immediately began rooting for a
breast. "Well, this one seems to have her father's
instincts," Scully said dryly.
"Thanks. Now these woman all think I'm a sex
maniac," Mulder shot back.
"Three kids under five years of age," said one nurse.
"You do the math." The room dissolved into
giggles and chuckles.
"Hey, I can't be held responsible if the last two
came as a matched set," Mulder tried to keep some
dignity in his voice by failed miserably.
"Listen up, people," said the doctor, standing so she
could be both seen and heard. "Let's get these nice
folks down to recovery, where Mom can try nursing
a bit. Then we'll take these young ladies down to
the newborn nursery and I think there's a big brother
waiting to see them."
In the recovery room, the nurse was very
accommodating. "You guys are a little too early,"
she announced as she helped Scully settle in the bed
and handed one baby to her, then the other to
Mulder. "Next fall we open the maternity center
and then you'll be able to stay in one room, and Dad
can even stay the night in there if he wants."
"We just didn't think it was worth it to hold off on
delivering them till the grand opening," Mulder said
dryly. The nurse gave him a curious look and then
broke into laughter.
"Oh, a joker, are you? I'll have to keep an eye on
you. Now, here's the phone, you can make all the
long distance calls you want, they'll be billed to
your room. Don't worry, we don't charge motel
rates -- "
"Maybe a hotel on the lower East side of
Manhattan," Mulder muttered and Scully shot him a
'be good' look.
"Oh, you!" yelped the nurse and shook her head at
him. "Anyway, now might be a good time to call
all those 'Grandmas and Grandpas' and tell them
about the new arrivals. The ones who aren't in the
waiting room with your other little boy, of course."
"Those are friends out there," Scully said tensely.
Mulder reached out his hand to grasp hers. He
could almost read her thoughts. She wanted more
than anything to reach out to that phone and dial a
very familiar number in Baltimore, Maryland, but
they both knew that was impossible.
Just as she had in the delivery room, the second
baby showed an uncanny ability to latch on to the
breast and was soon sucking happily, then fell off to
sleep. The older of the two seemed uninterested in
eating, was more inclined to take in every thing
around her.
"We have a pragmatist and a dreamer, Woman," he
said affectionately as he kissed his partner. "We are
in so much trouble!"
She laughed and the morose spell was broken, for a
moment. The sadness in her eyes couldn't be erased
for long.
"We'll be able to contact her, someday, my love. I
promise," he told her solemnly, and she nodded her
head, trying to hold back the tears that threatened.
"Oh, Scully," he whispered and gathered her to him
as much as the hospital bed and the two infants
would allow. "I know it's hard."
"I just miss her so much," Dana sobbed. "I wish we
could just get some word to her, somehow."
"I know, I know," Mulder crooned, stroking her
hair. "I'll work on it."
"We can't, Mulder," she whispered hoarsely. "Now,
more than before, we can't! If 'they' found out
about the twins and where William is -- "
"Shhh, don't get all upset," he whispered, kissing
the crown of her head and rubbing her shoulders
and the base of her neck, the fastest way on earth to
relax her, as he'd become very aware during this
most recent pregnancy. "It doesn't look like it now,
but you know how quickly things change."
"That's what I've afraid of," she hissed back, more
tears falling down her cheeks. "We have a perfect
life right now. I'm so afraid we're going to lose it."
The nurse came back, seeing the tears. "Hey, hey,
it's OK," she cooed, collecting both babies into their
assigned bassinets. "I think Mom needs a nap. It
was a long delivery, from what I've heard and
you've been up all night. Dad, you could lie down a
bit, too, before we're scraping you up off the
pavement. You aren't here by yourself, are you?"
"No, we have friends and our three year old son out
in the family lounge," Mulder said, helping Scully
settled down in the bed. "Taking a nap does sound
like a good idea, huh, love?" he murmured as he
lowered the head of the bed so she could rest
comfortably.
"It feels so weird," Scully mumbled sleepily. "I
can't remember the last time I got to sleep on my
back."
"Well, I remember at least one time, about 9 months
ago," Mulder whispered in her ear and got the smile
he hoped to receive.
"shut up," she mumbled and swatted ineffectually in
the direction of his arm. "Go show William his
baby sisters."
He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.
"I'll be back later, when you wake up." He was
pretty sure she hadn't heard him because she was
already asleep.
Family Lounge
1:45 pm
Mulder blearily made his way down the hall in the
direction the desk nurse had pointed. They'd
arrived at the hospital at the ungodly hour of 2:15
am and from the moment they'd hit the door, there
had been some kind soul acting as his guide. He
was eternally grateful to his new employer, Carroll
College, for allowing them to move into an
apartment previously reserved for unmarried faculty
members for the last month of Dana's pregnancy.
They had missed their mountain hideaway in
Alexandria, but driving the deserted streets of
Helena for only six blocks after Dana's water broke
at 2 in the morning was a lot easier than the 30
miles from their home. Now, once Dana and the
girls had a chance to rest, they would be moving
back home just in time for summer.
He found the family lounge, but it was deserted. He
was just about to ask if he had the right one when he
turned and ran right into MC Hawthorne, carrying
an unopened bottle of soda.
"Ellery! My gosh, you scared me! Are they here?"
MC asked anxiously, leading him into the homey
lounge. A big screen television showed a baseball
game. Mulder was having a hard time
concentrating on anything and the pitch on the set
made for a pleasant distraction.
"Ellery? Dana . . . the babies . . . delivery?" MC
asked again patiently this time. She was getting a
bemused expression on her face at his inability to
speak, or connect to the world around him.
"Oh, come here," she directed in mild disgust.
"Sit," she ordered. Amazingly, he sat. "Drink this,"
she said, handing him the soda. Like an automaton,
he unscrewed the cap and drank half the contents,
preceding to release a good portion of the CO2 back
in the atmosphere in the form of a window-shaking
belch. MC shook her head in exasperation, then
stood directly between him and the ball game.
"Now, then, how is everyone?"
He looked up at her and recognition hit. "MC," he
said, as if she'd just entered the room. Then, more
realization took place. He looked frantically around
the lounge. "Where's Will?"
"Relax, Dad," MC said with a laugh. "Joe took him
to McDonald's. They're at the playland. I told them
I'd call as soon as there was news. So, is there
news?"
"Oh, god, yes," Mulder said, smacking his head.
"I'm sorry. I'm just a little out of it. Yes, everyone
is fine, just fine. First one was born at just a little
past 12 and the second one came along about 12:30.
Five pounds four ounces, 19 and half inches, and
five pounds, six and 20 inches. Strawberry blond
hair, once they cleaned 'em up."
"Oh, Dana must be thrilled!" MC exclaimed,
hugging her friend. "I'm so happy for you, Ellery!"
Mulder hugged the small woman back. "I'm pretty
happy, too," he said tiredly. They broke apart and
he leaned back against the sofa cushions. "I just
wish Will were here. I want him to see the babies."
"Daddy, Daddy! Look what I got in my Happy
Meal. A soccer guy! Uncle Joe lets me have Dr.
Pepper! We played in the playballs," Will hit the
family lounge like a three-foot dynamo.
"Hey there, buddy!" Mulder said, grabbing his son
and lifting him up on his lap. "What do you have
there?"
"It's a soccer guy. Uncle Joe said I can play soccer
when I get big. Can we get a soccer ball and we can
play at school?"
"We'll talk about that later. I have a surprise,"
Mulder said, winking up at Joe and MC who were
watching fondly a few feet away. "You have two
new baby sisters," he announced proudly.
"I know," Will said calmly. "Missy and Sammi.
Can I go see them now?" he asked.
Mulder stared at the little boy for a moment.
"Buddy, Mommy and Daddy haven't . . . what did
you call them?"
"Missy and Sammi, Daddy. Missy was born first.
Sammi was next. I'm the oldest!" he said with great
seriousness. "Auntie Mary said so."
"He's been talking about them since we got here,"
Joe said with a shrug. "He told us their names are
Melissa Margaret and Samantha Ann. I figured you
guys must have decided on the names in the last day
or two and just didn't tell us."
Mulder tried to cover his concern. "We hadn't
really considered those names," he said slowly.
"Daddy, Missy and Sammi are waitin'," Will said
emphatically. "C'mon!"
"Will, where did you hear those names for the
babies?" Mulder asked, a cold chill taking hold in
the pit of his stomach.
"The ladies told me," he said casually, fingering his
toy soccer player.
"What ladies?" Mulder prodded.
"The ones that come in my room when I'm
sleepin'," Will said with a smile. "They're real
pretty. They have long hair, and they smile all the
time. They're real nice. Their names are Missy and
Sam. They told me the babies' names."
MC and Joe looked confused and Mulder didn't
want to go into details without consulting Scully.
"Well, for the moment, let's wait until we see
Mommy to decide the babies names," Mulder said
evenly, hoping he didn't upset Will or scare him
with his reaction.
Will was thrilled that he was allowed to hold each
new sister, but it didn't take long for him to get
restless and bored with the babies. MC offered to
take him back to the apartment for a nap.
"You two have to get home, don't you?" Mulder
asked. "The kids -- "
"Now, Hale, you know the kids are fine. Meg is
taking the boys to baseball practice. I told them I'd
be home tonight, MC wants to stay for a day or two
until Dana gets settled. This is the closest thing to
being a grandmother she's likely to get in the
foreseeable future, so let her horn in, er, help for a
while," Joe said, earning himself a quick kick to the
shin.
"That would be wonderful," Mulder admitted. He
and Scully had discussed the big picture often when
they were planning for the babies' arrival, but the
little details always seemed to scurry out of view.
"Joe got me a room at the Hampton Inn, right across
from campus," MC said. "I'll take Will to the
apartment for a nap and then tonight, when you're
there, I'll fix some dinner so you can rest, too. Of
course, you'll want to come back up here during
visiting hours, but they're pretty strict about kicking
you out right at 9. Joe can tell you."
"I have the boot marks on my ass to prove it," Joe
said, rubbing his hip.
Mulder paced the hall until the nurse finally let him
down to see Dana. She was looking better after her
nap. They'd let her take a short shower and she was
dressed in the nightgown he'd bought for her on her
birthday, a nursing gown just as she'd requested.
He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt when he saw her.
"Hey, good lookin'," she said as she held out her
arms to him. He fell into her embrace happily.
"Did you get some rest?" she asked.
"Not a bit," he murmured as he buried his face in
her hair. "Don't need sleep. Must make enough to
support large family," he spoke in robotic tones.
She laughed at him and stroked his hair. Finally, he
sat up and took her hand. "Will's with MC at the
apartment. I figure I'll bring him up to see you
tonight."
"Good. I want to read him a bedtime story," she
said as she settled back in the pillows.
Mulder nodded and made a close examination of
her blankets. She knew something was bothering
him, but was hesitant to pull it out of him. She
squeezed his hand to force him to look at her.
"Hey, what's up?"
He sucked on his tongue a moment, gathering his
wits. "Have you thought about their names?" he
asked innocently.
She smiled at him and pulled her hand away to
reveal a small book hidden under the blankets.
_20,000 Baby Names_
"I'm been reading some," she admitted guiltily.
"But I was only making notes to go over with you.
I know last time I sort of sprung Will's name on
you, you didn't get a chance to even say if you had
an alternative."
"Well, technically, you did most of the work on
Will," he pointed out. "I wasn't even fast enough to
make it for his birth." As always, he tried to cover
his discomfort with humor.
She pulled his hand to her mouth to kiss his
knuckles. "You were there for all the really
important parts," she reminded him. "So, have you
been thinking of names?"
"No," he said honestly. "But apparently Will has."
She frowned and looked at him with a tilt to her
head. He continued. "He's been calling them Missy
and Sammi."
Her sudden intake of breath echoed his reaction.
"I know. I asked him where he heard those names.
I mean, we've mentioned your sister Melissa and
my sister Samantha, but I don't remember calling
them by their nicknames."
"No, no, I don't either, but it's always possible.
Why? How do you think he came up with them?"
she asked.
"I asked him. He said 'the ladies' told him. The
ladies who come into his room when he's sleeping."
Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes flew open
wide. "Ohmigod . . ."
He squeezed her hand still clasped in his palm.
"Scully," he whispered, "he said they were very
pretty and very nice. He said they smile all the
time. And they told him their names are Missy and
Sam. He told MC that the babies are named
Melissa Margaret and Samantha Ann. Now, I never
knew Missy's middle name and I know I've never
used Sam's middle name around Will, she avoided it
as much as I've avoided Fox."
"You think they came to him?" she asked in a tiny,
frightened voice.
He nodded. "But so far, all of these visitations, for
all of us, have been positive. They're watching over
us, Scully," he continued in low tones. "I think it's
wonderful. And I sort of feel, well, it would seem
ungrateful if we didn't, you know -- "
"So we name the babies after our sisters, because
our sisters came to Will in a dream and told him to
tell us," she completed for him. "Mulder, what
next? Is your mother going to come one night and
offer to babysit for us?" she asked derisively.
"I don't think she's the type, sweetheart. She's more
the 'send the kids a card with money' type
Grandma," he responded.
Scully sat there, considering all the implications for
a moment. Tears started down her cheeks again.
"You know, hormones are a bitch," he said fondly
as he wiped her cheek with his thumb.
"I was just thinking that the only one of our parents
who don't know about us and the kids . . ."
"Is your mother," he said sadly. She nodded and
her face crumbled as she broke down into sobs.
Mulder took her into his arms and held her close. "I
promise, we'll get word to her. I just have to figure
out a safe way to do it. But I will work on it, I
swear to you, Scully. I will work on it."
FBI Headquarters
Washington DC
Violent Crimes Unit.
July 20, 2003
His desk was at the back of the room, in a corner
that had previously been home to the copier. The
irony was not lost on him. Walter Skinner
straightened the sheets of paper in his hand and
returned them to the folder on his desk. Another
file, another case. He wasn't allowed to work in the
field, he was just allowed to consult. Most of his
consultations were over the phone and it was given
no real authority over the investigations. In short,
he was punching the clock, just taking up space
until his retirement in five years.
Skinner still wasn't sure why they hadn't just fired
him. John Doggett had been summarily dismissed
upon his return from Arizona. He'd gone back to
New York where he was once again on the police
force. Monica Reyes had not even left a forwarding
address, but he'd heard she'd moved back to New
Orleans. He wondered briefly why she didn't go to
New York with Doggett, but decided it was best not
to worry about such things. Besides, after Deputy
Director Kersh's complete vanishing act, from the
Hoover Building in the middle of the day after he'd
help Mulder escape a death squad, Skinner decided
it was best not to look into anything too deeply.
And no one had seen or heard from Fox Mulder and
Dana Scully in over two years. After much debate,
and the testimony of Doggett and Reyes that they'd
last seen the pair entering a pueblo that had been
destroyed by rocket fire, the official version was
that the two were killed in the line of duty. Skinner
realized that was as much to keep Scully's brothers
and her mother off the trail of the conspiracy as it
was any honor to the two agents.
Skinner had tried, just once, to contact the person
who had helped him place baby William with his
adoptive family. The phone number was
disconnected. Skinner worried about that, too,
when he allowed his mind to go in that direction.
For the most part, he was just trying to survive.
He picked up the file folder on the top of the pile.
Three deaths across the northeast. A serial killer
was suspected. The only impairment to the
investigation, there were no bodies of the victims.
There were witnesses to each murder, had different
descriptions of the murderer, but they were sketchy
at best. Tall, at least 6 foot. Built, or so one
witness had described him. But the murders had
occurred in shadows, dark alleys, at a mostly
deserted rest stop in Massachusetts. No make on
even the race of the killer.
Skinner pulled the pages forward and adjusted his
glasses. The case was interesting. A sudden twinge
caught him in the gut. Just the kind of case he
would have sent downstairs to the basement. An X
file. But the X files were closed, the filing cabinets
packed off to some warehouse, the old office once
again a copy room. Every bit of evidence that there
had ever been an X Files Division had been erased,
possibly like the two agents who had made up that
division. He shook his head to dispel his maudlin
thoughts.
"Give it to Walter, this should be up his alley."
Skinner cringed at the sound of the SAC's voice.
Gary McDaniel. He'd been McDaniel's supervisor
just two years ago. The tough young agent had
been hanging by a thread, had two reprimands
already in his jacket. One more disciplinary notice
and he would have been standing before OPR. But
McDaniel apparently had some friends, and after
Kersh's disappearance and Skinner's own fall from
grace, McDaniel's found himself in the catbird's
seat. He was making sure to remind Skinner of his
position every single day.
The file folder made a loud 'thump' when it hit the
corner of his desk. "You're good at fertilizer
checks, Walter, aren't you?" McDaniel sneered.
"After all those years of bullshit from those losers in
the basement."
Skinner sat stone still, holding his anger tight in his
chest. He had nothing left except his pension and
he had two years before he could even think about
retiring. Well, 22 months, 18 days, he glanced
down at his watch and mentally did the calculations.
Five hours and 12 minutes. He could hold it in that
long. Maybe.
"You have your assignment, Agent Skinner. I
suggest you pick up that phone and let your fingers
do the walking."
"I thought I was supposed to review the work on
these killings, sir," Skinner said with an emphasis
on the 'sir' that made his jaw ache.
"Well, you thought wrong, Skinner," McDaniel
sneered. "That's way out of your league now,
mister."
He forced himself to look up at the glowering
young man staring down at him. Skinner refused to
flinch in front of the little bastard.
"Did you hear me, Skinner? Start shoveling that
shit," McDaniel smirked.
The folder was just inches from his fingertips. He
fought the urge to throw it in McDaniel's face.
Instead, using very controlled movements, he
opened McDaniel's folder, grabbed the phone
receiver and dialed the first number.
McDaniel started to walk away, but turned around a
few feet from Skinner's desk. "Let me know if
anything 'Spooky' pops up, Walter," McDaniel
called out as one last parting shot. The pull bit
erupted in loud snickering as the other agents
caught the joke. Skinner squared his shoulders and
didn't look up. Only the ring tone of the receiver
heard his near silent "Yes sir, asshole!"
12:00
The only bright spot in Walter Skinner's week came
at lunchtime on Thursdays. After years of being his
Administrative Assistant, Kimberly Mathers was
heartbroken when she was forced to change jobs
after Skinner's demotion. The worse luck for Kim
was that she ended up working on the sixth floor,
the Director's offices. It was a step up the ladder for
Kim, but it just pounded home how far her former
boss had fallen. About a month after Skinner's new
assignment, Kim made a point of bumping into him
at the Bureau cafeteria. She suggested that they
would find better food at a local diner. Skinner
took a chance and went there the next day at noon.
Sure enough, Kim was there and they had lunch
together. They had been meeting for lunch every
Thursday since that day.
Kim had suggested a new place, a little further from
the Bureau, the last time they'd met. Skinner
arrived at noon straight up and looked around. It
was a small Mexican restaurant. He got a table for
two and sat down, munching chips and salsa until
Kim arrived. She was almost ten minutes late and
he was starting to get worried. She hurried over to
the table, immediately apologizing.
"Walter, I'm so sorry! The office was a mess this
morning and I just couldn't get a way."
"Kim, that's perfectly all right. You have a lot of
responsibilities, keeping those bozos in line up there
on six," Skinner teased.
"Believe it. And here I left a good job working as
an aide at a day care to come to work for the
Government," she said with a sigh. "Some days I
feel like I'm back there."
Skinner chuckled. It was the only pleasure he got
anymore. He often thought about asking Kim out
after work, but each time had decided against it. He
was a pariah and the last thing he wanted to do was
drag her down with him. Better to keep their
relationship to the occasional lunch, if it allowed
Kim to keep her position at the office.
They looked over the menus and gave the waiter
their order. As soon as the young man had left,
Skinner's curiosity got the better of him.
"So, what emergency befell the upper echelons of
power today? White House briefing? Tenet called
and cancelled the joint CIA-FBI golf outing?" he
asked with a devilish grin.
She giggled. "Oh, no, not the golf outing! I would
have had to cancel this lunch if that had happened,"
she shot back. "No, apparently Deputy Director
Marris left. And from what I could gather, it was
quite sudden."
"Marris?" Skinner asked and a flood of
apprehension swept through him. "Wasn't he . . ."
Kim looked around them furtively and then leaned
closer to Skinner, lowering her voice. "On Agent
you know who's little jury? Yes, he was. He took
DD Kersh's place after Kersh disappeared."
Skinner had been fairly certain that Alvin Kersh
would not be 'reappearing'. He was positive Kersh
had been killed for his part in helping Mulder
escape the military stockade. As always, no body
was found and no investigation was made. It was as
if Kersh had just decided to find employment
elsewhere. "You say Marris left? Where did he
go?"
Kim's eyebrows knitted and she shrugged. "That's
what his secretary would like to know," she said
conspiratorially. "He was at work yesterday, had a
full appointment schedule for today. He never
called in. She was informed by the front office
about ten o'clock." The 'front office' was Kim's
nickname for the Attorney General's office.
Skinner chewed on his lip. Their food arrived and
the conversation changed directions to the new
sitcom that Kim had convinced Skinner to start
watching. They didn't discuss Marris or his
disappearance again for the rest of the lunch.
The next day, Skinner was at his desk, again
looking through the file on the murders without
bodies. He pulled up a map program on the internet
and charted the path. It appeared that the killer or
killers were traveling south, along the eastern
seaboard. As he was trying to figure out how that
fit with what they already knew, which was next to
nothing, his phone rang. It was Kim.
"Walter, can you meet for lunch?" she asked, and
only the note of desperation in her voice stopped
him from teasing her about having to see him again
so soon.
"Sure. Just not Mexican, OK? I think those
burritos were filled with explosives."
That lightened the moment a little. She chuckled.
"OK, how about hot dogs on the Mall. Same time."
"I'll see you then," he promised and put the phone
down slowly. He couldn't imagine what had Kim
so rattled. It would be a long three hours until
lunchtime.
It was a beautiful day on the Capitol Mall. The
tourists were in full bloom, several tour buses were
already spewing forth passengers in front of the
National Gallery of Art. Skinner hurried across the
lawn to the hot dog vendor near the Smithsonian
Castle. Kim had beaten him and was already
holding her dog and drink. She waited while he got
his food and then nodded up the street toward the
Capitol. "It's a nice day. Can we walk?" she asked.
He nodded in agreement.
"So, what's up? Today isn't Thursday," he said
pointedly as they made their way up the sidewalk
past the Air and Space Museum.
"Two more of them are gone, Walter. I'm getting
scared," she said succinctly.
"Who is gone?" he asked, stopping in mid bite.
"Two more of the men on the sixth floor! An AD
and another DD," she said in a whisper.
"Names?"
"Brinker and Huffman," she said, looking quickly at
the crowd of tourist that was about to surround
them. "Shhh, I don't want anyone to hear."
They made their way through the tourists, who were
all from some Latin American country from the
sounds of their chatter, and Skinner directed her
over to a bench to sit down.
"Kim, is this like yesterday? What do you mean
they are gone?"
"They were both at work yesterday, and never
showed up today. But Walter, that's not the scary
part. It's like they never existed! They're names are
being removed from their doors as we speak. It's
just spooky," she said with a visible shiver.
The word hit him hard. She noticed immediately.
"Oh, darn it, I'm sorry, Walter. I didn't mean that . .
. you know what I mean," she mumbled helplessly.
"No, it's OK, Kim. I understand," he tried to
reassure her. "Brinker and Huffman and yesterday
it was Marris."
"All of them gone. Poof!" she said, snapping her
fingers. "Walter, I knew Marris had a hand in that .
. . situation a few years ago, but I didn't know if
Brinker . . ."
"Both Brinker and Huffman were on that jury,
Kim," Skinner confirmed her suspicions.
"Oh shit," Kim said, staring down at her drink. She
finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Walter, these
men, I admit I didn't care about them one way or
another, but to just vanish without a trace . . ."
"Kim, I want you to go back to the office and just
leave this alone," Skinner said gruffly. At her
startled expression, he softened his tone. "I think
you're right to be scared. But if you leave this
alone, nothing will happen to you."
"Walter," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not
afraid for me. I'm afraid for you! You were Agent
Mulder's defense attorney. If all the members of
that jury start vanishing, what might happen to
you?"
Skinner looked into her eyes and was absolutely
floored by what he saw there. If he didn't know
better, he could swear he saw love in Kim's eyes.
He shook his head slowly, not quite believing.
Then Kim took his hand in hers and the sensation
completely blew him away.
"Walter, I know you've hated being down in VCS
and you're only sticking it out to get your pension.
But please, if you're in any danger, get out now. If
anything were to happen to you . . ." she looked
away and as she turned her head, Skinner could see
tears on her lashes.
"Kim . . . I don't . . ." He stopped himself. This
wasn't the time or place to have a conversation
about where their relationship was headed. Kim
was right, he could be in danger. The very last
place she should be seen was with him. "We need
to get back to the office, but I think we should go
there separately. You go ahead, I'll follow in a few
minutes."
"You think this is something. You think you're in
danger, too," she said quietly.
He smiled wanly at her. "I think I'm very lucky you
got that promotion to the sixth floor," he said
calmly. "Now, you need to get back."
She nodded and started to get up. Suddenly, she
leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Be
careful, Walter," she pleaded. Before he could
recover from his shock, she was half a block away.
Walter spent the rest of the afternoon trying to
locate any mention of the three missing men in the
Bureau's files. The directory of staff had been
changed and even Holly in research couldn't find
any mention of them in the personnel files. Skinner
was more convinced than ever that the men were
murdered and a cover up was underway. His only
question was why.
Five o'clock finally arrived and Skinner shut down
his computer and headed home. His apartment in
Crystal City was dark and lonely, as always. He
deposited his suit coat on the back of an armchair
and his tie on the coffee table. Pulling out a yellow
post it note, he dialed a number he'd found online.
"Peter Kallenbrunner," answered the other party
after the second ring.
Skinner cringed. The last man on earth he ever
expected to be calling was Agent Kallenbrunner.
He could still see the man, could still picture him as
he sat at the prosecution's table in that dungeon of a
courtroom. It was everything Skinner could do not
to hang up the phone. "Agent Kallenbrunner, this is
Walter Skinner."
There was silence on the other end of the line for
several seconds. "Skinner? What can I do for you
Assistant Director?"
Skinner swallowed and eyed his makeshift bar on
the counter in the kitchen. He'd have given his right
arm for a glass of bourbon at that moment. "It's
Agent Skinner now."
Kallenbrunner was quiet again. "I'm sorry to hear
that. Anyway, what can I do for you, Agent
Skinner?"
"It's come to my attention that men are
disappearing. Men who have something in common
. . . with you and me."
"We have something in common, Agent Skinner?"
came the slightly bemused voice over the phone
line. "I don't think you would have thought that two
years ago."
"That is precisely what I'm talking about," Skinner
ground out angrily. "Our last meeting, we weren't
alone."
"I'm very well aware that we weren't the only ones
in the room, Skinner. And two years ago, one of the
men who was also in that room disappeared without
a trace. I don't remember getting a phone call from
you at that time."
"Agent Mulder was set up," Skinner growled. "And
you know it! You knew it when the body failed to
be Knowle Rohrer."
"That was an unsubstantiated rumor perpetrated by
the lover of the defendant. I find it hardly . . ."
"Listen to me, you asshole!" Skinner shouted. "The
members of that kangaroo court, the jury members,
and I use that term loosely, are failing to show up at
their jobs. There is no explanation and more
importantly, no investigation of their whereabouts."
"Maybe they just got jobs somewhere else,"
Kallenbrunner suggested but he was at least
listening.
"No, it has been too sudden. No warning, they are
just gone. Their names were removed from the
personnel files the day of their disappearance."
"You hacked into the Bureau personnel files,
Skinner?"
"I didn't 'hack' into anything, you son of a bitch! I
have a friend who looked for me. Will you pull that
Rule Book out of your ass and just listen to me for a
moment? We could be next!"
He was again met with silence from the man in
California. "What do you want me to do?"
Kallenbrunner asked tersely.
"The two other members of the jury, Hanson and
Galbrith, where are they?"
"Hanson was assigned to the New Mexico Regional
office and Galbrith is out here in LA. He's my
boss."
Skinner's stomach dropped to the floor. This might
not have been the best idea he'd had. "Keep an eye
on Galbrith, I'll keep an eye on Hanson."
"What if they come for one of us? I have a wife . . .
and kids," Kallenbrunner whispered into the phone
line.
Skinner closed his eyes. "We keep in touch. I'll
call you about this time each day."
"Call my cell phone. I don't want this going
through the Bureau switchboard." Kallenbrunner
rattled off his number.
"Good thinking," Skinner complimented him and
returned the favor. "If something happens, if you
need me, just call."
"Skinner," Kallenbrunner called out just before the
older man had disconnected the call.
"Yeah?"
"Is this what they mean when they say 'strange
bedfellows?"
If was a lame excuse for a joke, and Skinner took it
to mean that the younger man was now truly
frightened. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"Shit," came the response. Kallenbrunner hung up
before Skinner had a chance to reply.
Skinner sat there with the phone still in his hand
until the automated voice asked him if he cared to
place another call and directed him to hang up the
phone. Slowly, he put the phone back on its cradle.
Kallenbrunner hadn't been much help, but at least
Skinner now knew the whereabouts of the two other
jurors. If he were a betting man, he'd bet on the guy
in New Mexico disappearing next.
New Mexico. Skinner shivered as the memory
coursed over him. Scully, in tears. Monica telling
her she didn't have to decide that night, she should
think on it, she should sleep on it. Finally, Doggett
had taken Monica home and it was just he and
Scully. When she'd looked at him with those tears
in her eyes, his heart had broken into a million
pieces. "I want William to be safe," she'd sobbed,
holding herself so rigid he thought she would
shatter if a feather had landed in her lap. "Make
sure he's safe."
He had accepted that charge. He contacted an old
buddy from the Marines and he found a place for
William, a quiet place, a good home. He alone
knew the location, in case it was an emergency, in
case he learned that William wasn't safe, even in the
safest of places. It was the least he could after all
she'd been through.
Now he knew he'd have to go out to New Mexico,
just to make sure. If every member of Mulder's jury
was disappearing, could his son be in danger? It
was a chance Skinner just couldn't take. He dialed
the Bureau offices, left a message on McDaniel's
voicemail. He was taking a few weeks of vacation,
effective immediately.
Hale Household
Alexandria, MT
June 19, 2004
6:05 am
Mulder leaned over to finish tying a shoelace when
he heard it. Not it, he admonished himself -- them.
The twins. It was a morning ritual. He hadn't had a
good morning run since the babies came home from
the hospital. He sighed resignedly and climbed the
stairs to the nursery that used to be his office. On
opposite sides of the room, two identical cribs
framed the window that overlooked the 'Old Man',
as he and Scully referred to 'their' mountain. The
birds were just starting up a chatter in the aspen tree
outside the window.
Neither baby was crying. Melissa had her fist in her
mouth, sucking vigorously. Little Samantha was
eyeing the mobile above her head -- Blues Clues
characters, at her older brother's insistence, danced
in the faint breeze. She was staring so hard, her tiny
blue eyes were crossed. When they heard their
father's approach, both babies turned their heads
toward the door.
"Hey, there, what are you two doing up this early?
Why can't you be more like your mom, huh? Sleep
in a little, and give your old man a break?" Mulder
scooped up first Samantha and then Melissa into his
arms. He'd gotten fairly proficient at carrying both
babies. He danced them around the room once and
then deposited Melissa in her infant seat while he
quickly diapered her sister, then switched babies
and repeated the process. Soon, he had them both
in his arms again and he sat down in the glider that
occupied the corner of the room. "Well, ladies,
that's the extent of my duties, until you decide to
take a bottle or start on solid food." The babies
stared up at him, mesmerized.
Little feet in the hallway alerted him to another
inhabitant of the house, but unfortunately, not one
that could lend him much assistance.
"Daddy, I'm hungry," yawned a droopy-eyed
William from the doorway. "Put the babies down
and make me oatmeal," the little boy pleaded.
"Will, what did your mom and I tell you about
that?" Mulder asked, giving his son a frown.
William sighed, unknowingly mimicking his father
from just moments before. "The babies are littler
and they come first. But that means I come second,
right? Or sometime?"
Mulder had a hard time keeping a straight face in
light of his son's perceptive logic. "Yes, it does.
And either Mommy or I will get you some oatmeal
in just a minute. I was hoping we could let Mommy
sleep a little this morning, but maybe it's time to
wake her up."
"No need," yawned Scully as she ruffled William's
hair and stepped around him to walk across the
room and crouch next to Mulder and her daughters.
"I'm up. Heads or tails?" she asked.
"Too late, I changed 'em already." Mulder smiled at
her. "But if you make Will's oatmeal, I'll keep the
girls occupied."
"Deal," Scully said, reaching up to capture a good
morning kiss from her partner. "Did you get your
run?" she asked, noticing for the first time his attire
of running shorts and tee shirt.
He shook his head and shrugged. "Maybe when
they're in kindergarten?" he offered.
"More likely when they're in college," Scully said
tiredly and ushered William down the hall. "I'll
make coffee."
"I knew there was a reason I love you," he said
loudly enough for her to hear over William jumping
down each step of the staircase.
Melissa fussed slightly in his arms and he leveraged
her onto his shoulder. "I know, I know, you're
hungry. Mommy will be back soon," he crooned to
her. Looking down at Samantha, he smiled. "And
you're just content to check out the window, hmm?"
He followed the baby's gaze out the window to the
mountain. It was beautiful in the early morning
light. The last of the snow had melted from their
yard, but there was still snow on the top of the
mountain. Drawing his line of sight indoors, he
looked around the room. It was a sweet little
nursery. He and Scully had fixed it up a few
months before the babies arrived, with considerable
help from Joe and MC Hawthorne. The room
sported cream-colored walls with a border of
dancing teddy bears. He was happy at how it had
turned out, but more so when he saw the look of
gratitude on Scully's face when she had seen the
finished product for the first time. Of course, in
true pregnant fashion, she had broken down into
tears and sobbed into his paint-splattered shirt. But
he knew they were tears of joy.
"Have you thought more about the house?" Scully
asked softly as she stepped into the room.
"Is William eating?" he asked, ignoring her question
for the moment.
"Yes, and I started the coffee; it'll be ready when
you go clean up his mess. Now I believe it's this
lady's turn," Scully said, lifting Melissa out of her
father's arms. "I'll lay down with her. Come talk to
me."
Mulder switched Samantha to his shoulder and
followed Scully into their bedroom. She moved the
blankets aside and lay down on her side, slipping
open her nursing gown and helping the infant latch
on to her nipple. Mulder stood watching her,
mesmerized, a warm and strongly protective feeling
rushing through him.
"How long are you going to breastfed them both,
Scully?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
She smiled up at him. "Oh, probably until they're
six months old. Then we'll see. I enjoy it, Mulder.
And I get plenty of rest, with you home most days.
Since Meggie has been coming to help out, I sleep
longer than William."
"That's not saying much," Mulder scoffed.
"Mulder, you're deflecting," she teased. When he
gave her a confused look, she prodded further.
"The house?"
He chewed on his lip and looked around their
bedroom. It was small, but served its purpose.
Still, with two new additions to the family, he
wondered how long it would be before they began
feeling cramped. He looked out their bedroom
window to the trees in the yard and by the road.
The crabapple blossoms still littered the ground.
The redbud was finally loosing the last of its purple
flowers. It had been breathtaking, this house in the
springtime.
"I think . . . I think we need to add on," he said
slowly, looking over at her. "Maybe a master
bedroom up here and a real office downstairs.
When the girls are older, one of them can have this
room and the other can keep the nursery -- with
suitable redecorating, of course."
She smiled up at him. "So we're going to buy this
house?"
"Do you want to?" he asked.
"I wanted to say yes last night when they called.
Mulder, we're safe here. It's been two years and
nothing has happened, no military has come looking
for you, no super-soldiers have been looking for
William. Besides, if we don't take it we have to
move and the thought of moving right now . . ."
"But I'm talking about adding on, and that's a
headache, too," he countered.
"I can live through plaster and sawdust if I don't
have to pack," she said with a grin.
"Then I'll call Jim later today. It's a shame about his
dad dying, but Jimmy was 89 and it sounds like the
old guy had a good life. If we buy the house it will
be one less thing for his family to worry about. I
don't want to keep them waiting. They want to get
the estate settled as soon as possible."
"Dana, Mr. Hale, I'm here," came a young voice
from the downstairs hall.
"We're up in the bedroom, Meg. Come on up,"
Scully called down to the teen.
"How come you're 'Dana' and I'm still 'Mr. Hale'?"
Mulder asked with a scowl.
"Because she doesn't have a school girl crush on
me," Scully answered with a malicious grin. "She
thinks you're 'awesome,' but totally out of her
league."
"Are you sure you aren't confusing me with Orlando
Bloom?" Mulder whispered back as he heard
footsteps on the stairs.
"Not a chance. Don't worry, I'm used to your
'effect' on women, Mulder. I would bet good
money that half the girls taking Deviant Behavior
this summer are there just to see if you come in to
teach class wearing a muscle shirt and cut off
shorts," she said affably.
He looked down at his running clothes, a University
of Montana sweatshirt minus the sleeves and a pair
of Nike running shorts. He grinned at her. "Maybe
I just won't change for class," he teased.
"Hit the showers," Scully laughed. She moved from
the bed with Melissa and was about to pick up
Samantha when Meg entered the room.
"Oh, let me get her, Dana. Hey, Sammi, how's my
girl?" Meg asked fondly as she expertly lifted the
newborn. Hearing the new voice, Melissa turned
toward the sound. "I'm not ignoring you, Missy!"
she told the infant. "Do you want me to give them
baths this morning, Dana?"
"In a little while. I think now they just want to play.
I'll go find out what William's up to and grab a bowl
of cereal."
"He's playing cars in the kitchen," Meg assured her
as she carried Samantha downstairs to the living
room, followed by Scully carrying Melissa. Both
babies were placed on their backs in a soft-sided
playpen by the big double window. "I'll watch
them, you go get some breakfast."
Thirty minutes later, Scully was pouring coffee in a
travel mug as Mulder entered the kitchen, dressed in
chinos and a polo shirt and looking more like a
tennis player than a college professor.
"You didn't get breakfast," she said. "Do you want
a bagel for the road?"
"I'm good. I have to watch those calories. Don't
want to disappoint my fan club," he sniggered. She
slapped him on the shoulder as she handed him the
mug. He took a sip and put it down on the
countertop.
"So you're going to call Jimmy's son today?" she
asked.
"And the bank to transfer the money. Should be
pretty quick, since we aren't going through a
mortgage company. Can you ask MC and Joe about
contractors in the area?"
"I'll call them this afternoon." She looked out the
kitchen window, her eyes becoming shadowed and
pensive.
"Having second thoughts?" he asked, hugging her
from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.
She smiled at their reflection in the glass of the
windowpane. "No. I just didn't think it would be
this easy. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"We're out of the car, Scully. And both my shoes
are on my feet." He kissed the top of her head.
"You, however, look really cute barefoot," he
whispered as he nuzzled her ear.
"Caveman," she accused and gave him another
swat, followed by a kiss. "Get to work. Act like
you do something for a living," she teased and
handed him the mug again. He kissed her one more
time and headed for the door.
Maggie Scully residence
Baltimore, MD
June 19, 2004
10:15 am
Maggie dumped the dregs of her coffee cup into the
sink and rinsed the cup, leaving it to dry on the dish
drainer. There was no putting it off any longer.
The parish garage sale was in one week and she'd
vowed to go through some of the boxes stored in the
garage for possible donations. She told herself she
wasn't giving up, that even if her daughter returned
home someday, the clothes she'd left behind in her
apartment would be woefully out of date. Many of
the items had been hanging in dry cleaner bags for
months before Dana's middle-of-the-night
departure, the slim lines if the suits cut for a woman
who hadn't given birth. Maggie also knew that
many of the suits only served as a reminder of
Dana's missing heart, her other half, who had
disappeared just as mysteriously.
Grabbing some empty boxes, Maggie trudged to the
garage, feeling like a soul on the way to the
gallows. She remembered doing this activity after
her husband had died suddenly, and then again
when her oldest daughter had been murdered. Did
she really want to do it again? But she had no
choice; there was no one else to do the job.
She'd kept Dana's apartment for six months after
she'd lost track of her daughter. She'd finally given
up the lease when the Bureau had decided to put the
markers in Arlington Cemetery. Everyone else
seemed so determined that Dana Scully had died
somewhere in the New Mexico desert, with her
former partner by her side. Even John Doggett had
been convinced of that truth, or so he'd told her
when he'd come by to say he was leaving town.
Monica Reyes had written her a note before leaving
for New Orleans, but it was more of a thank you
than anything else. Only Walter Skinner remained,
and Maggie knew that with each passing day Mr.
Skinner was losing a bit more of himself.
She had sold the furniture immediately. All that
remained were clothes and things she'd found in
Dana's desk and night stand. She'd tried to sort
things and label the boxes, but it hurt so much as
she filled each cardboard container that after a while
Maggie had just dumped whole drawers in, closed
and taped the lids without even examining the
contents.
The first box must have come from the desk. There
was an address book, a DC phone book, several
pens and pencils and pads of paper. Some file
folders divided the contents and made the box seem
like a layer cake. On the bottom was a photo
album. Maggie drew in a deep breath and brought
it to her lap.
The first pages were filled with 8 by 10 glossy black
and whites, almost all of them of Fox Mulder.
Maggie could tell they were taken at various crime
scenes because of the uniformed officers and squad
cars in the background. Some of them had Dana
with Fox, some were just of Fox alone. One picture
had caught him with his head turned, as if someone
had just called his name. His eyes were alight with
a smile even though his mouth was pressed into a
straight line. Maggie would have bet the person
who'd called to him was her daughter.
Later pictures were of William, and it was more
than Maggie to bear. With tears streaming down
her face she carefully turned the pages and ran her
finger over the plastic surface, as if hoping to
connect just a little with her grandson. William in
his bassinet, William in his car seat with one shoe
off, William squinting into the sun in his stroller on
a warm summer day. She'd only known him 9 short
months, but his absence left a gapping hole in her
heart. Maggie couldn't understand why Dana had
given her baby up for adoption. It made even less
sense when she remembered how her daughter had
hoped and prayed for a child. Maggie closed the
album and set it aside, letting loose a prayer for the
baby who would now be almost three years old.
The next box was much easier and less emotional to
sort through. It was filled with kitchen equipment,
dishes and flatware. Several boxes with similar
items followed. In no time at all, Maggie had more
than enough for the garage sale.
She carried the boxes out to her car and placed them
in the trunk. On her way back into the house, she
caught sight of the album. She approached it
hesitantly, as if it might reach out and bite her.
Finally, she opened the cover and flipped through
the pages. Picking one photo of Fox and Dana, she
slipped it out of the protective cover. She flipped a
few more pages and picked one of a smiling
William staring cross-eyed at the camera. She took
it out of the album and then placed the album back
in the box. She held the two photos close to her
heart and went inside the house.
She busied herself with household chores, or so she
told herself. With just one person to pick up after,
there wasn't much to be done. She called a friend
who was ill, made a hair appointment for the next
day, ate a low-calorie frozen dinner in front of the
evening news. She watched some television and at
11 o'clock, she went up to bed. The photos came
with her.
After she'd donned her nightgown, Maggie took the
photos and placed them side-by-side on the
nightstand, propped up against a framed snapshot of
Bill, Tara and their son Matt. She said a rosary for
all her children and grandchildren, then slid beneath
the covers.
The dream came not long after she'd fallen asleep.
Maggie dreamed she was walking down a hallway.
The house was unfamiliar, but the walls were
brightly painted and the wooden floor was clean and
showed little sign of wear. She heard a creaking
noise in one of the rooms and walked toward it.
The door was just slightly ajar, so she reached out
and pushed it open. The occupants didn't bother to
look up; it was as if they didn't know she was there.
A woman was seated in a rocking chair, rocking
slowly, steadily. Maggie stepped into the room and
walked toward the woman. The woman was facing
a window, and in the reflection caused by a single
dim lamp, Maggie saw who it was and gasped. It
was Dana! Her hair was cut longer and pulled back
in a ponytail. She smiled gently, looking down at
something. Maggie followed Dana's gaze and
gasped again. Dana was nursing a baby. The tiny
person was wrapped in a pink blanket with delicate
lace covering satin bunting. A baby girl -- Dana
had a baby girl. Maggie couldn't believe her eyes.
But then she caught sight of something else in the
window. A shadow fell across Dana and caused
Maggie to flinch, but when she looked at the source,
she smiled. Of course, it was Fox. He was standing
just a few feet from Dana, swaying slowly as if
dancing to an unheard song. After a moment,
Maggie realized that he, too, was holding
something. Another blanket. Just then, a tiny head
reared back and Fox brought his hand up quickly to
catch the neck in his hands as his eyes connected
with the infant. He smiled and murmured to the
baby, who nuzzled back in Fox's neck. He patted
the tiny back and resumed his swaying.
Two babies. Fox and Dana had two daughters.
Maggie sat up in bed and looked around the
bedroom, expecting to see the room she'd been in
during her dream. It had all been so real. She was
shaking. She forced herself to calm down and got
up to get a glass of water.
In the stark light of the bathroom, after a few sips of
lukewarm water, Maggie looked at her own
reflection in the mirror. It had been a dream, but it
was more than that. Since she'd been a little girl,
her grandmother had told her that she had 'the sight.'
Her father had brushed it aside as the ravings of an
old woman, but Maggie's mother had remained
silent, looking at her only daughter with wistful
melancholy. Now the sight was bringing her
something she'd prayed for all through the last two
years -- news of her daughter. Dana was alive, of
that Maggie was certain. She was alive and well
and living with Fox. And now, Maggie had two
granddaughters.
Maggie knew something else -- she had to find
them.
Hale Household
11:45 pm
Mulder was just crawling into bed when it started.
A blood curdling scream came from the somewhere
down the hallway. Scully sat straight up in bed,
blindly searching the nightstand for a gun that
wasn't there. Mulder jumped out of bed and was in
the hallway before she could untangle herself from
the blankets to go after him.
She skidded to a stop just inside the door to their
son's bedroom. Mulder had turned the little
nightlight to a higher illumination and was cradling
William in his arms. The little boy was crying
inconsolably and gripping his father's shirt, soaking
it with his tears.
"It's OK, buddy. It's OK; it was just a bad dream.
Daddy's here, Daddy's here," Mulder murmured
over and over again. Scully swallowed the terror
that had engulfed her at the sound of her son's
scream and sat down on the bed next to Mulder so
that she could rub the boy's back. Mulder smiled at
her and kissed William's head. "Look, Will,
Mommy's here, too. We could have a party," he
joked, trying to get through the boy's anguish.
"Sammi! Missy!" William yelped and struggled out
of his father's arms, hitting the ground at a dead run
out of his room. Scully marveled at how very much
the boy looked like his father until she noticed that
Mulder was following Will and trying to stop him.
She hurried after them, grabbing Mulder's hand.
"He has to see for himself. They must have been
part of his dream," she told Mulder. He
immediately slowed down and nodded. How many
nights in the distant past had he dialed a number just
to hear her voice after a bad dream? Together, they
entered the nursery.
Will was darting from one crib to the other, quietly
climbing onto the rails to get a better look at the
sleeping infants. After checking both cribs a
number of times, he dropped to the floor, breathing
heavily. Mulder stooped down and scooped the boy
into his arms.
"C'mon, Will. I think we need some chocolate
milk. How does that sound?" Mulder asked in a
whisper so he didn't wake the babies. William
nodded solemnly and nestled his face onto his
father's shoulder. Scully brought up the rear of the
parade as they made their way downstairs to the
kitchen.
In the bright and cheery kitchen, it did look
somewhat like a party. William was sipping
chocolate milk out of his favorite McDonaldland
cup. Mulder had a tall glass of iced tea in front of
him, and Scully was sipping on ice water.
"Do you want to tell Mommy and Daddy about your
dream, buddy? Sometimes it helps to talk about it,"
Mulder encouraged. He knew dreams at William's
age sometimes didn't even take form, but the way
the child had been so insistent on seeing his sisters
was cause for some concern. "Did anyone talk to
you in your dream?"
Scully shot him a look across the table. Mulder
shook his head slightly to and fro. "The ladies,
maybe? The nice ladies who told you the babies'
names?"
William continued to drink his chocolate milk until
the glass was empty. He sat it down with some
finality. "I don't remember," he said flatly. "Can I
have more?" he asked, shoving his cup over toward
Scully.
"You don't remember the dream, or you don't
remember if the ladies were there?" Mulder
prodded.
"Can I have some cookies?" he asked his mother.
"Honey, Daddy asked you a question," Scully said
gently. "Can you tell us about your dream? It's just
a dream, sweetheart. It can't hurt you."
"He took us away," William said, and his face
crumbled into tears. "A bad man took us away from
you." In minutes, the small boy was trembling with
fear and agony. "Mommy, I don't wanna go 'way! I
don't wan' Missy and Sammi to go 'way!"
Scully gathered William into her arms and stroked
his baby-fine chestnut hair. "Sweetie, no one is
going to take you away. I promise. Mommy and
Daddy will keep you safe. You and your sisters." It
took several minutes of impromptu rocking on the
wooden kitchen chair and finally William's little
body grew limp in her arms.
"He's out," Mulder whispered, picking the boy up
and turning him so his head rested on Mulder's
shoulder. "I'll put him down." He carried his son
up to the boy's bedroom.
Scully was straightening the kitchen when he came
back downstairs.
"Some night, huh?" he asked, leaning against the
doorjamb.
Scully shot him a sour look.
"What? What did I do?"
She tossed the sponge into the sink and wiped her
hands on the tea towel. She cocked her head and
silently led her partner into the living room.
Looking at the shelf of DVDs, she selected a few
and held them out to him.
"Texas Chainsaw Massacre," she read. "Halloween,
the original," she said, shuffling the boxes as if they
were a deck of cards. "Oh, and my personal
favorite: 'Nightmare on Elm Street'!"
"Classics, Scully. And don't forget, research. I am
teaching a class on the psychology of horror films,"
he said with a shrug.
"And your son just happens to wander through the
room when you're doing research, Mulder. It's no
wonder the poor kid has nightmares. I want these
put up somewhere, far away. Take them to school.
You have a DVD in the psych department's office.
'Research' them there," she growled, tossing him the
cases.
"You're saying that all of a sudden these movies are
getting to William? We've had these movies since
he was born," Mulder pointed out.
"Yes, but we didn't watch them when he was
awake," Scully countered. "I never watched them at
all!"
"I really think there might be . . ."
She spun on her heel and headed toward the stairs.
"I'm too tired to discuss it right now, Mulder. It
was a bad dream. Get rid of those . . . movies, and
do it before William wakes up." She hit the bottom
of the steps when she heard a muffled noise.
"Great, the twins are up," she huffed.
"I'll help," Mulder offered, following behind her.
"No, you've done quite enough," she snapped. At
his hurt look, she softened her expression. "I'm
sorry, that wasn't fair. Look, I'll feed them and tuck
them back in. I can sleep late tomorrow, you have
class. Go on back to bed."
Mulder nodded, and headed to their room, but sleep
was a hard fought battle. He couldn't help feeling
that there was more to William's dream than a few
scary movies.
Skinner's apartment
Crystal City, VA
With his packed bag at his side, Walter
Skinner opened the bottom drawer of his
dresser and dumped the contents onto the
bed. On the wood, between the rails of
the drawer bottom, was taped a letter.
He removed the envelope and sat down on
the floor, not bothering to clean up the
mess he'd just made.
He vowed to give this letter to Mulder
and Scully when it was safe to do so.
He'd made that vow entirely to himself.
Scully and Mulder believed the
whereabouts of their child was completely
unknown. Only Walter Skinner knew the
lie of that statement. For only Walter
Skinner knew the truth.
Carefully, he pulled the flap and
unsealed the linen paper. He removed the
single sheet and unfolded it slowly.
Rachel and Henry Van de Kamps
Rural Route 1
Low, Utah
He studied the paper again, memorizing
it, though there wasn't much information.
He got up from the floor, walked into the
kitchen and struck a match to the paper,
holding it over the sink as he watched it
burn to cinders. He ran the water to
flush the ash down the drain. Calmly, he
went back into the bedroom, picked up his
suitcase and left his apartment, taking a
cab to the airport.
Utah, going West from Salt Lake City
The directions he'd received at the
airport information booth hadn't been
much help. The area of Utah was almost
totally uninhabited, and at the time,
that had seemed appropriate. Now,
Skinner wished more than anything that
the boy had been placed with a nice
family in a large metropolitan area, or
at least somewhere easier to find.
The narrow dirt road was unmarked. He
had to judge by his odometer how many
miles from the last intersection. It was
hit or miss but it wasn't like there were
a dozen roads to choose from. The dirt
path was the only break in the side of
the road for miles, or at least for the
miles since the intersection with the US
highway. Skinner turned the car onto the
path and wondered how long it would be
before he found the Van de Kamp house.
There were trees in the distance and he
felt a small amount of relief. Trees
usually meant water, and often, houses.
His heart lightened for a moment. Then
he realized he was about to confront two
people he'd never met before in his life.
How was he going to explain his sudden
appearance on their doorstep? How could
he tell them that he was afraid their
son, the baby they'd adopted two years
before was under a threat that might
extend to their lives?
He'd barely come up with a reasonable
cover, that he was an FBI agent checking
out a potential lead on a case, when he
rounded the corner and slammed on the
brakes. The sight before him took his
breath away. Walter Skinner slowly shut
off the engine to the car, opened the
door and carefully got out.
A heavy gray cloud surrounded the charred
remains of the house. As the wind
shifted, Skinner immediately recognized
the smell of burned wood mixed with other
noxious odors. He walked slowly toward
the former residence. An apple tree,
small green apples still hanging from the
branches farthest away from the blaze,
was a surreal expression of the
conflagration. Closer to the house, the
branches were stripped of all vegetation,
black and brittle. He doubted the tree
would survive the assault; it would
probably die before the end of the
summer.
If he had any doubts about the owners of
the house, the mailbox erased them. Set
out closer to the driveway, the black box
with the standard red flag had escaped
the destruction. In gold leaf adhesive-
backed letters read 'The Van de Kamps,
Rural Route 1'.
Skinner's throat closed up and his eyes
burned with unshed tears. He'd been too
late. How could he face Margaret Scully,
knowing that he could have stopped this
tragedy if he'd only gotten there sooner?
He swallowed bile in his throat and let
out his anguish in deep shudders.
The hand that fell on his shoulder was
such a shock that he reached for his gun
and took a bead on the young man standing
beside him. The young man held up his
hands in surrender and calmly shook his
head.
"The baby wasn't here, they already got
him," the young man said with measured,
even tones, as if talking to a madman.
"What?" Skinner demanded. "Who took him?
Where is he?"
"Mulder and Scully. His parents. They
found him, two years ago," the young man
said with an easy smile.
Skinner narrowed his gaze. "How could
they? Scully didn't know anything about
the adoption," he ground out.
"Mulder brought her. He dreamed
something, he knew where to go. I'm
telling you the truth, William wasn't
here."
"Who the hell are . . ." Walter stopped
his demand in mid-sentence, taking a
closer look. The kid's hair was lighter,
he now sported a partial beard that was
so popular with the young 'in-crowd', but
there was no mistaking those eyes.
"Gibson?" Skinner asked.
The young man nodded and his smile grew
by leaps and bounds. "I wasn't sure if
you remembered me. Mind putting the gun
away?" he asked, gesturing to the weapon
Skinner still held clutched in his hand.
Skinner looked down at his hand and back
at Gibson. "How can I . . ."
A look of sad resignation came to the
young man's face. He slipped his hand
into his front pocket and produced a
small penknife, no longer than an inch
and a half. With a half grimace, he
sliced a neat cut along the center of his
left palm and held the hand up for
Skinner to inspect. "It's really me," he
said quietly as red blood trickled down
his palm and wrist.
"Thank God," Skinner muttered, holstering
his weapon. "Wait, you better . . ." He
pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket
and helped Gibson wrap it around his
hand. "I'm sorry you had to do that."
"I'm sorry it's necessary," Gibson said
with regret. "But you need to believe
me. They found the baby just a day after
the left you. They've been safe all this
time."
"How do you know this? Have you been in
contact with them?"
Gibson shook his head in the negative.
"I just, well, I just know."
"You can read their minds?" Skinner
asked, unconsciously wincing as he said
the words.
Gibson chewed on his lip. "Not exactly.
I mean, when Mulder lived with us, I
could read him like a book. It was a
pretty sad book, if you know what I mean.
He missed Scully and the baby a lot. But
then, after he left, it was like I was
connected somehow. Like I knew when he
was in trouble. That's why I came out to
DC in the first place, because I knew
what they were planning to do to him. So
I can't read his mind, but I can tell you
that he's a lot happier now, happier than
I think I've ever known him to be. And
I'm positive that Agent Scully and
William are with him, or he would never
be that happy." The young man shrugged
his shoulders in a gesture of self-
explanation.
Skinner surveyed the remains of the house
again. "You say they got the baby not
long after they escaped? Kersh told them
to go north," he said, more to himself
than to Gibson.
Gibson sighed. "I know. Mulder didn't
listen. I knew that's what he was
planning the last time I saw them, but if
I'd said anything, well, you know how it
was. I knew he was going to New Mexico.
I lost track of his thoughts when they'd
been gone about an hour. But I could
still get that feeling, that connection.
It was a couple of days later, I woke up
and just knew he was happy. A little
scared, I'll admit. But really, really
happy. And that's pretty much how it's
been."
"This fire was recently set," Skinner
said, looking at the still smoking ruins.
"The house was abandoned," Gibson said.
"You know that for certain?"
The young man nodded. "I don't think the
adoptive parents were alive when Mulder
and Scully got here to get the baby. I
don't know what happened, but no one has
been here for a long time."
"But someone was here looking for
William," Skinner said firmly.
"Yes, I think they were. I think they
still are looking for him," Gibson added.
"Any clue as to where I can look?"
Skinner growled impatiently. All this
back story was getting him nowhere, but
at least he was fairly confident William
was with his parents, and they were safe.
Gibson sadly shook his head. "I wish I
could help."
After a few minutes of looking around,
Skinner realized he wouldn't find any
information at the house. He turned to
the rental car and noticed Gibson's
Yamaha motorcycle parked next to it.
"I didn't even hear you pull up," he said
in confusion.
"I walked it the last mile. I wasn't
sure what I would find. Then I saw you.
I didn't want to scare you."
"Where are you going now?" Skinner asked.
"Back to the reservation, I suppose. I
came because I had some bad dreams
lately. Those men, the ones who aren't
alive . . ."
"They're being killed off, destroyed,
whatever," Skinner told him.
"I know. But I don't know who's doing
it. It could be a good thing, having
them dead," Gibson said hopefully.
"Or someone much worse could be killing
off the competition," Skinner said
tensely.
Gibson nodded in agreement.
"Will you be all right going back?"
Skinner asked. "I mean, if they're
looking for William . . ."
"They were never interested in me, only
our own people wanted me. The others
think I'm just a blip, a fluke. William
has the real power they're worried about.
I can read minds; William can destroy
their plans. If they don't destroy him
first."
Skinner nodded, is face set in
determination. "We'll just have to make
sure that doesn't happen."
"You're going to hunt for the rest of
them, the ones from Mulder's jury,"
Gibson said dully.
"I have no other choice. Maybe along the
way, I'll find Mulder and Scully."
"I hope not," Gibson said. "If you do,
they'll be dead."
Before Skinner could object, Gibson got
on his motorcycle and peeled out of the
driveway, down the dirt road. After a
minute, Skinner got in his rental car and
followed.
Salt Lake City International Airport
Salt Lake City, UT
5:30 pm
Kallenbrunner picked up on the second
ring. "What have you got?" he asked, not
even waiting for Skinner to announce
himself. Skinner figured the man must
have given his cell phone number a
special ring.
"I had to make a side trip, but it was
unproductive. Have any more -- "
"The one in New Mexico. Yesterday
afternoon. He left for lunch, never came
back. Just like the others. My boss is
getting nervous."
Skinner considered that a moment. "Do
you think he'll make a run for it?"
"I don't think he would know where to
run," Kallenbrunner replied. "Are you
coming out here?"
"Yeah, I'm on a flight out in an hour and
a half."
"I'll pick you up. What time does your
flight arrive?"
"Kallenbrunner, you don't -- "
"What time, Skinner? And the flight
number? Look, this isn't a social call.
I'm just looking out for my own sorry ass
here," the former pseudo-prosecutor
reminded him.
"Arrival time is 7:35, Pacific. I'm on
Delta 4391." Skinner could hear
Kallenbrunner fumbling for a pen.
"Got it. I'll meet you at the gate."
Skinner waited at in the passenger lounge
until his flight was called. Once on
board the plane, he let himself think
back to his conversation with Gibson.
Could it be true? Could Mulder and
Scully be alive, safe, with William? He
didn't think it was possible, not after
two years. He closed his eyes and fell
into a light doze. He hadn't slept well
since the whole business had started.
Los Angeles International Airport
7:45 pm
Kallenbrunner was as good as his word.
He was at the gate and shepherded Skinner
out to his car, which was parking in
hourly parking. "I know a little place
not far from here," he said as he pulled
out of the parking garage.
"How did you hear about Hanson?" Skinner
asked when they settled in at the bar in
North Hollywood.
"My boss got a fax. Apparently after the
others went missing in DC they started
keeping in better contact. But he didn't
do anything. Left the office at the same
time as usual tonight."
Skinner took a pull off his Coors and set
it back on the table. "What do you think
is going on?"
Kallenbrunner barked out a laugh. "Why
ask me? I was a pawn in that little
drama, Skinner. I didn't know a
goddamned thing two years ago, and I sure
as hell don't know anything now."
"You knew Mulder was innocent, didn't
you?" Skinner accused.
The other man's expression grew hard. "I
was given an assignment. I did it to the
best of my ability. Look, Skinner, I
know you aren't a lawyer, but you're ex-
military, right?"
"Former Marine," Skinner replied.
"Then you know exactly what I was ordered
to do. I've been a prosecutor. I left
that to join the FBI. But in my old
life, I was good at picking them out, the
innocent from the guilty. I could tell
by the way they held themselves, the way
they looked at you when they were brought
into the courtroom. If you want my
confession, here it is. Yes, I knew
Mulder was innocent. And I knew that in
all probability, Agent Scully was telling
the truth on that witness stand, or at
least the truth as she knew it. But that
wasn't my assignment. I was supposed to
poke holes in that case and make sure
Mulder was found guilty."
"They planned on killing him anyway. You
just made sure no one would look into the
murder," Skinner spat out.
"He's not dead!" Kallenbrunner yelled and
then realized where he was and that
others were listening. He drew in a deep
breath to calm himself. "He's alive. He
escaped, which makes him a wanted
criminal. Most likely with your help,
judging from your recent change of
positions," he added, taking a drink from
his own bottle of beer.
"There are no charges against him listed
in the NCIC," Skinner pointed out.
"I don't know what to tell you. Maybe
it's just on the military database,"
Kallenbrunner suggested. At Skinner's
roll of the eyes, the younger man
relented. "OK, so they probably weren't
real charges. What difference does it
make now?"
"I think . . . I think their baby could
be in danger," Skinner said evenly.
"She gave him up for adoption,"
Kallenbrunner said, slightly confused.
"I was at the house of the adoptive
parents. It was burned to the ground.
No sign of anyone."
Kallenbrunner closed his eyes and opened
them slowly. "What makes you think the
boy wasn't inside?"
"A friend. A friend in a position to
know such things. He believes Mulder and
Scully got the boy immediately after we
all lost track of them two years ago. He
thinks they've been hiding out somewhere,
together."
"Where? You can warn them of what's
going on!"
Skinner shook his head. "My friend
didn't have that information."
"Shit," Kallenbrunner swore. "What do we
do now?"
"Wait. Watch. Your boss, this
Galbraith, he's the best chance we have
to draw this bastard out."
Kallenbrunner nodded. "OK, let's go.
There's a motel not far from the office.
I can drop you off there, pick you up
sometime tomorrow."
Skinner shrugged in agreement and picked
up his bags, following the other man out
to his car.
Traffic was light as they drove through
the streets. They were passing the FBI
regional office when Kallenbrunner saw
something down a side street. He pulled
to a stop at the curb. "Do you have your
weapon handy?" he asked Skinner.
"Yeah, why?" the older man asked as they
both existed the car.
"I just saw Galbraith coming out of that
restaurant. It looked like a guy had
just stopped him and they disappeared
down that alley."
"Why is it always an alley?" Skinner
asked of no one, but headed off after
Kallenbrunner at a trot.
"Down there," the younger man said as
they approached the end of the alley.
Two men were plainly visible in the
security light from one of the
businesses. Suddenly, something in the
one man's hands flashed and the other man
crumbled.
"Damn it! That's Galbraith!"
Kallenbrunner yelled and took off at a
run. Skinner, noting the other man had
been alerted and was heading down the
alley, ran after him.
"Call for backup," Skinner yelled at
Kallenbrunner as he passed him.
"Oh, shit, oh god!" Kallenbrunner was
moaning. The man who had been his boss
was slowly melting into a pool of green
bubbling ooze. "What the hell? Skinner,
what is going on?" he shouted after the
older agent.
"Back up!" Skinner called again over his
shoulder.
The alley ended and the killer hit the
street, running down the middle for a
block until he came to another alley.
Skinner kept on his tail, gaining a
little and then losing ground. Off in
the distance, he heard sirens and just
hoped he could hold out long enough for
them to find him -- and the perpetrator!
Just when he thought he'd lost the man,
Skinner caught sight of him crossing the
street a block down. Swallowing the lump
that was growing from the lack of
moisture in his throat and pushing his
legs past what he knew they could do, he
put on a burst of speed and followed the
killer down another alley.
He ran halfway down the alleyway when he
realized it was a dead end. Stopping, he
listened. The only sound was a dripping
drainpipe and the hum of electricity from
the overhead transformers. He could hear
shouts in the distance; the sirens had
stopped, indicating that Kallenbrunner's
back up had arrived, but was probably
pursuing on foot.
Slowly, Skinner turned around in a
circle, searching the alley for any sign
of his prey. Dumpsters lined one side
and made for perfect hiding places in the
dark shadows. It had been a while since
he'd tracked a perp. He'd been riding a
desk too damned long, he decided. Then
again, he reconsidered; maybe it was
about time to hang up his spurs, too.
Movement off to his left caught his
attention. He'd drawn his weapon six
blocks before so he brought it up to
sighting level and trained it on the
sound. A rat, nice and fat, sashayed
across a puddle of an unidentifiable
substance and continued down the alley
unhindered. Skinner drew in a breath
through his nose and went back to
searching.
He took three steps forward, coming to
within a few feet of one of the
dumpsters. With his weapon trained in
his right hand, he reached out with his
left and lifted the plastic cover of the
bin. Nothing. He shuffled over to his
right and repeated the process. Again,
just garbage greeted him. He was
starting toward the third dumpster when
he heard a sound from behind and spun
around.
The blow knocked his glasses clean off
his face. The world went blurry and
flashed bright all at the same time. He
could feel himself falling, could feel
the cold, wet pavement underneath his
knees and then he was down the rest of
the way, coming to rest in a puddle of
brownish grey liquid that smelled of
rancid milk and bad lettuce.
Someone was standing over him, and then
kneeling beside him. He felt a hand at
his neck, checking for a pulse.
Blearily, Skinner tried to raise his
head.
"Go home, Mr. Skinner. Before you get
hurt," came a graveled voice from above.
This time, Skinner could almost make out
the object as it came down hard and fast
toward his head, but there was not a
thing he could have done to avoid it.
As his world went black, Skinner hoped he
lived to take the killer's advice.
Mt. Sinai Medical Center
Los Angeles, CA
9:00 am
How much had he drunk? That was the first
question that popped into Skinner's mind when he
started waking. Whatever he'd had, it must have
been a doozy!
His head was reeling with pain and he was afraid to
open his eyes, but he could hear noises that
confused him. It sounded like wheels of a cart, one
in desperate need of oiling, and sneakers on tile.
Those were not the sounds he was accustomed to
waking up to in his apartment. Curiosity beat out
fear and he cracked open his left eye. Too blurry to
make out much, but there was someone standing
above his bed. That prompted him to crack open
the other eye and blink away some of the blur.
Where the hell were his glasses?
"Well, Mr. Skinner! Nice of you to join us," a
woman in bright blue scrubs said cheerfully. "Just
let me get your vitals. The doctor will be in to see
you shortly."
Skinner squinted at the woman. "Where . . . where
are my glasses?" he rasped.
The woman laughed merrily. "That's a first.
Usually people want to know where they are when
they wake up in the hospital. Your friend is just
outside; maybe he knows what happened to them.
You were brought in by ambulance. You have a
concussion. Now, just lie back and let me finish
and I'll let your friend back in."
Skinner did as she requested, but couldn't help
wondering who the 'friend' was. He was extremely
disoriented. The last thing he could remember was
having lunch with Kim. No, that wasn't right. He'd
gone on a trip. Where did he go? Thinking was
just making his head hurt.
"All done. You're doing fine. Just rest and the
doctor will be in before you know it. I'll let your
friend in now to keep you company." He could just
make out the woman's form as she exited the room.
Another shape entered and walked up to his
bedside.
"You're looking better than you did last night,"
Kallenbrunner said.
Suddenly, more of the events of the last few days
came back to him. Kallenbrunner . . . he was
meeting him in LA. "Galbraith!" Skinner
exclaimed and tried to sit up, but fell back when the
pain washed over him.
Kallenbrunner put a hand on his shoulder and
pressed him further into the pillow. "The doctor
was pretty worried last night. Said a guy your age
has no business doing field work," he said, barely
suppressing a smirk. "You need to lie still."
"What happened? What happened to Galbraith?"
Skinner demanded, but this time, stayed put.
The younger man licked his lips. "I . . . I don't
know. It was . . . strange."
"Strange how? Just tell me damn it!"
"He melted, OK? He just . . . melted, into a pile of
goo that bubbled and then it disappeared. It was . . .
it couldn't have happened, but I saw it. It had to
have been a fast acting acid -- "
"I've heard of this before," Skinner said, taking a
deep breath.
"You've heard of it?" Kallenbrunner said with
suspicion. "Where?"
"In a report by Agent Mulder. Actually, in several
reports. And not just Mulder, Scully reported
similar findings. The 'goo', as you put it, ate a hole
through one of her shoes," he added, a ghost of a
smile playing on his lips. "She requested
reimbursement."
"For the shoes? After seeing something like that,
she had the gall to ask for reimbursement for her
_shoes_?"
Skinner shrugged. "They were nice shoes," he said
casually. "And for the record, it wasn't acid. It was
alien blood."
"Oh Jesus -- not that again! Skinner, you aren't
going to get me to buy into this alien conspiracy
take over the world bullshit that Mulder and Scully
tried to pull at the trial. I'm not that gullible!"
"So, was there anything left to be analyzed?"
Skinner asked glibly.
Kallenbrunner took a deep breath and found the
bedrail very interesting. "No. Nothing. Forensics
found nothing."
"An acid, even a fast acting acid, would leave trace
evidence," Skinner pointed out.
"Maybe they just looked in the wrong place,"
Kallenbrunner huffed.
"Fine, believe whatever you want. The fact of the
matter is your boss, the last of the jury, is dead."
"You chased the killer. Did you get a good look at
him?"
Skinner squinted again, but not from blurry
eyesight. "I didn't, not really. I mean I saw him; he
was the one that cold cocked me. He said
something . . ." He trailed off, concentrating hard
on the events of the night before. His head was
killing him. Then, he remembered. His head jerked
up and he tried to focus on Kallenbrunner. "He told
me to go home, before I got hurt."
"You shittin' me," Kallenbrunner said dryly.
"No, I'm not. He could have killed me, but he
didn't."
Kallenbrunner slumped against the bed rail. "So
what does this mean? Are we safe? You and me?
Or just you," he asked, his voice accusing.
"You think I'm in on this?" Skinner charged back.
"What the hell do you -- "
"Hey, time out! What's going on in here?" asked a
gentleman in dusty blue green scrubs as he pushed
open the door to the room. "Mr. Skinner, it's not a
good idea to get so agitated after a head injury."
The man walked up to the bed, moving
Kallenbrunner aside. "If you don't mind waiting in
the hall, this will just take a few minutes."
As soon as Kallenbrunner left, the man extended his
hand to Skinner. "Stephen Hatfield, I'm the neuro
resident who saw you when you came in last night.
Mind if I take a look?"
Skinner nodded. As the young man examined
Skinner's eyes with a pen light, causing bright star
burst of pain, he asked a few questions. "Do you
have a headache, Mr. Skinner?"
"I do now," Skinner gritted out.
"Dizziness?" Skinner shook his head, but did it
slowly to avoid more pain. "Blurred or double
vision?"
"I have no idea. I've lost my glasses," Skinner
growled.
"Oh, well, we can check your clothes, see if the
paramedics stuck them in a pocket. Your x ray
looked good this morning. You have a mild to
moderate concussion. I'd like to keep you till
tonight, see how you do. Then we'll release you.
But you should go home and rest for a few days."
"Home is on the other side of the continent,
Doctor."
Hatfield frowned. "Maybe you should consider a
short vacation before you go back home. You
really shouldn't be traveling with a head injury."
Skinner's mind flashed to Mulder, in a similar
condition after Scully had been stung by a bee and
abducted. "I'll take that under advisement," Skinner
said evenly, but had no intentions of sticking around
longer than necessary.
When the doctor left the room, Kallenbrunner came
back in. "Uh, I guess you'll be needing these?" he
asked, holding out Skinner's glasses. Gingerly, he
took them from the other agent's outstretched hand
and fitted them on his face. Only one small scratch
marred the surface and that was in the far left corner
of the left lens.
"Wow, they made it out better than I did," Skinner
remarked. "And these aren't all that I need. I'll
need a motel room for the night, maybe a couple of
nights."
"What next?" Kallenbrunner asked warily.
"I guess I go back to DC," Skinner said dejectedly.
"The last lead was Galbraith."
"I got to thinking about what the killer said to you.
How did he know your name?"
Skinner drew in a breath and gave that question
some thought. "I don't know. I've never seen him
before. But then, maybe I have and I just didn't
recognize him."
"Can you give a description? I could get a sketch
artist in here," Kallenbrunner offered.
"I didn't get a good look, he knocked my glasses off
before I could see his face. But I can give a
description of his body type, that sort of thing.
Might help."
"Somehow I don't think this guy is one of the usual
suspects the LAPD rounds up every night,"
Kallenbrunner said with a sigh.
"I suspect you're right. I also don't think he's on the
Ten Most Wanted. Besides, he may not look like
that the next time we see him."
"You think he'd try to disguise himself,"
Kallenbrunner said with a frown.
"If what I've heard is right, he doesn't need a
disguise. He'll just change his whole appearance.
His face, his hair, his build. He can look like
anyone he wants, the guy walking down the street
toward him, you, me . . ."
"I saw this movie. Wasn't Dana Carvey the lead?"
Kallenbrunner quipped, not hiding his incredulity.
Skinner set his jaw and glared back. "Look,
asshole, I'm trying to help you," he seethed.
"By telling me I should look for a guy who can
make himself look like anyone? That's a hell of a
lot of help there, Skinner," the younger man
chuffed. "I can't wait to see what the APB will
read. 'Could be anybody'."
"We'll have to wait till he makes his next move."
"He obviously knows you. And he told you to go
home. Maybe that's where you shouldn't go,"
Kallenbrunner said after a moment.
"That's why I want to go to a motel. I'll figure
something out," Skinner replied tiredly. He rubbed
his forehead with one hand, his head was killing
him. "Look, I think I probably should get some
sleep here. If you don't mind -- "
"Do you think I should stick around, stand guard?"
Kallenbrunner asked, genuinely concerned.
Skinner shook his head slowly; he'd learned his
lesson earlier. "No need. You should go to the
office. See what's going on; see if they found
anything in that alley. I'll be fine."
"I'll be by later, to take you to that motel," the
younger man said and left. Skinner watched the
closed door for a few minutes and then took off his
glasses and drifted off to sleep.
Ramada Limited LAX
9:35 pm
The room was on the ground floor, and Skinner
could have kissed the clerk for her kindness. He'd
forgotten completely how bad headaches got with
concussions. Of course, it had been a few years
since he'd had a concussion. A few bruises, thanks
to some run ins with Krycek. Bruised jaws,
courtesy of Holly in Accounting and Mulder on
LSD laced water. But for a concussion he had to go
all the way back to his early days at the gym and a
sparring partner who thought helmets were for
sissies. Waking up in the hospital convinced
Skinner he was just enough of a sissy to wear a
helmet in the future.
Kallenbrunner had dropped him off in the lobby,
saying he'd be back for him in the morning. No
news to report on the Galbraith investigation. For
that matter, there was no investigation. Skinner
shook his head at the news, but wasn't that
surprised. For whatever reason, the government
wasn't making a stink over these disappearances.
He wondered if they'd made any investigation at all,
covert or otherwise. Maybe the powers there were
decided they were better off not knowing. But
Skinner wanted to know and he wasn't going to
leave until he found out.
He sat down on the bed and slowly worked the knot
out of his tie. Suit and tie man, that's what Sharon
had called him years ago, when they were first
dating. He just felt comfortable in a tie; unlike
other guys he knew who couldn't get out of them
fast enough. Rising from the bed, he decided to
take a shower, even though the kindly doctor had
cautioned him to take baths for a few days to avoid
getting dizzy and falling in the bathroom. He
wasn't that much of a sissy, yet.
The water felt wonderful as it ran over his sore
body. The concussion had kept him in the hospital
for observation, but when he'd taken off the stupid
gown he discovered all the bruises he'd acquired as
he'd fallen in the alley. Nice, multicolored
markings all over his body. He sighed loudly. He
was getting too old for this shit.
"Go home, Mr. Skinner. Before you get hurt." The
words of the Bounty Hunter -- that's what he was,
wasn't he -- came back to Skinner as he stood under
the hot spray. He should be dead, but he wasn't.
The Hunter could have killed him on the spot.
What the hell was going on? He wished, not for the
first time in the last two years, that he could turn to
Mulder or Scully and ask that question. Mulder
would rattle off some weird alien-government
conspiracy bullshit and Scully would try to counter
that with scientific mumbo-jumbo, but at least he'd
have a semblance of an answer between them.
Now, with just himself to ask, he felt like he was
sliding down a fast moving river headed for the
rapids and certain death just ahead.
He turned off the water and grabbed two towels.
He thought briefly about shaving but decided he
was just too tired to put a sharp object against his
throat. He let the bathroom door open and walked
into the bedroom in a cloud of steam.
He remembered taking his glasses off in the
bathroom and stepped back in to retrieve them when
his foot caught on something on the floor. He
stooped to pick it up. It was a manila envelope,
letter-sized. After putting on his glasses, he carried
the envelope over to the bed and sat down to open
it.
There was no marking on the outside, no 'to' or
'from'. The thought crosses his mind that maybe he
shouldn't open it, maybe it was a bomb, but he
shoved down his trepidation and tore the flap.
Inside there was a single sheet of paper and a
newspaper clipping. He set the clipping aside and
looked at the full sheet of paper. It looked like the
worksheet for a deed. It had been faxed at least
once, was not straight on the page, but he found it
easy enough to read. Owners names: G. Ellery and
Dana Hale. The woman's name caught his attention
immediately and he drew in a quick breath. He was
aware that Mulder had several aliases, all supplied
by the now deceased Lone Gunmen. Could G.
Ellery be yet another of his names?
The more he sat with the paper, the more it called
out to him. He picked up the clipping and scanned
it. It was from the Mt. Airy Weekly Independent,
dated May 21, 2004.
"Births, Alexandria, MT. Twin girls, born May 19,
2004 to Ellery and Dana Hale. Babies join older
brother, William, aged 3. The family resides in
rural Alexandria."
Could it be? He grabbed the other paper, the house
was described with a township address, it must be
rural, and it was in Alexandria, Montana. The deed
was for June 23.
Skinner's mouth went dry. Two years without a
scrap of evidence, without a single lead, and now
this. He knew as well as he knew his own name
that he'd found Mulder and Scully. He frowned
when he realized that by keeping her name and
William's name the couple had left them selves
open to discovery.
William! Skinner felt a laugh bubble up in his
throat. They found him. They had him with them!
He looked at the clipping again. Obviously they felt
comfortable enough where they were to continue
the family they'd already started. Twin girls. What
a handful! Mulder had even decided to put down
roots, buy a home. Skinner's head was reeling with
the implications.
Then, the other shoe dropped. Someone had given
him this information, but whom? Gibson? Skinner
thought back to his last conversation with the young
man just a few days before. Gibson said he could
feel that Mulder was happy, happier than he'd ever
felt before. Well, the papers in Skinner's hands lent
credence to that possibility. But had Gibson found
them?
No, if it had been Gibson, the young man would
have come himself to tell Skinner. If it weren't safe
to come to the motel, Gibson would have found a
way to catch up with Skinner at another time. The
young man didn't go in for the 'cloak and
dagger/under the door' technique.
He closed his eyes in agony when he realized who
might have given him this information. What if the
Bounty Hunter knew where they were?
Shoving the paper and the clipping back in the
envelope, Skinner walked over to his bag on the
floor and grabbed out clothes, dressing quickly.
Suddenly, he wasn't really that tired. He called
down to the front desk and asked about the nearest
rental car agency. They informed him that it was at
the airport, and the airport shuttle could take him
there. He thanked the night clerk and told the girl
he would be checking out in half an hour.
He decided to call Kallenbrunner in the morning.
There was no use alerting him when there was a
chance the agent would try to talk him out of going.
Since his bag was packed, for the most part, he
gathered the clothes he'd discarded in the bathroom
and looked around the room. The envelope was
hastily tucked into the outer pocket of his suitcase.
Should he call Maggie? Skinner's gut clenched
when he thought of how excited and happy Maggie
would be at this news. But he couldn't tell her until
he was sure. He felt the need to get to Montana as
quickly as possible. Once there, he could call her,
or have Dana call her.
In a little over two hours, he was turned off
Interstate 10 on to Interstate 15, heading north.
Salt Lake City, Utah
I-15 rest area
8:05 am
Skinner had stopped for breakfast at a McDonald's
but the coffee wasn't enough to keep his eyes open
any longer. Not wanting to stay off the road for
long, he'd pulled into a rest area just outside Salt
Lake City and had closed his eyes for a bit. He
woke up to the ring of his cellphone.
"Skinner," he answered wearily. He then
remembered he'd neglected to call Kallenbrunner,
who was probably at the motel wondering where the
hell he'd run off.
"Walter?" came the voice on the other end of the
line. "Walter, it's Maggie, Maggie Scully. I'm
sorry, did I wake you?"
Instantly alert, Skinner sat up straighter in the seat.
"Mrs. Scully, hello. No, you didn't wake me, I was,
uh, just . . ."
"I called your office but they said you were on
vacation. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."
"No, that's quite all right. What can I do for you?"
There was silence on the line and Skinner almost
thought he'd lost the connection. "Maggie?"
"I . . . it's silly. I shouldn't have bothered you," she
said quickly.
"No, no it's not. You're not bothering me. Maggie,
what's wrong?" he asked gently. For some reason
his mind flashed to Scully and how fragile she
looked after they had buried Mulder. "Please, tell
me what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, really. I just . . . I had a dream,
you see. I was cleaning out some of Dana's things
and I . . ."
He bit his lip when he figured out that she was
crying. "It's all right, you can tell me," he
encouraged.
"I dreamed about Dana. About Dana and Fox. I
dreamed they were safe."
He sighed in relief. "That's good," he said. "That's
a good thing to dream about."
"But there was more," Maggie insisted. "I saw
them with two little babies, newborns. I think, I
think they may have -- "
He ached with the need to tell her, but knew it was
too soon. "Maggie, I have to go. I'm sorry. But I'm
really happy you called. You hang on to that
dream, OK? Just keep praying and hopefully soon
you'll find what you're looking for."
"I hope so, Walter. I hope so with all my heart,"
Maggie said, sniffing back tears. "Well, you have a
nice vacation. You've earned it."
"Thanks," he replied guiltily. "I'll call you soon,
OK?"
"Yes, thank you. Take care," Maggie said.
"You, too," he replied and disconnected the phone.
Suddenly, he wasn't so tired anymore. Putting the
phone back in his pocket, he pulled the car out onto
the highway and headed north toward Montana.
He thought about the best approach. Should he
show up at their door? It would be late, more than
likely. He didn't want to scare Scully, not with
three little kids in the house. He decided to do some
checking first. Now that he had a name, he could
get farther. He pulled his cell phone out of his
pocket again and hit some buttons. Thankfully, not
everyone in the Bureau hated him.
"Kim, it's Walter. Could you do me a favor? I need
you to ask Danny to do some research. It needs to
be kept quiet."
"Walter, you're alive! When I hadn't heard from
you in a few days . . ."
The guilt hit him harder than he expected. "I'm
fine, Kim. I'm sorry I worried you."
"That's all right. Have you found anything?" she
asked.
"I'm on the trail of a lead right now. I just need
some work history on someone. Ask Danny to see
what he can find on a G. Ellery Hale, resides in
Alexandria, Montana."
"Sure thing. Should I have him call you on your
cell phone?"
Skinner bit his lip. "Or you could call me back with
it," he offered. He tried, but couldn't ignore the
urge to hear her voice again.
Her voice sounded lighter when she answered. He
could almost hear her smile. "Sure, I can do that. I
should have something for you in a couple of hours.
Are you driving?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Oh, well, I can't fax you anything, then. But I'll
call as soon as I have something. Be careful, OK?"
"I will, Kim. And thanks . . . for everything."
"You're welcome, Walter. I'll call you soon."
Hale Household
9:06 am
Father and son were in the backyard, amid a
glorious summer morning. The yard had been
transformed recently. Although considerable
lumber and construction equipment was taking up
the front yard, the backyard now looked like a Little
League Baseball camp, complete with paced off
bases. Mulder and William stood on the pitchers
mound.
"OK, sport, now Dad wants to teach you the fine art
of the knuckleball," Mulder said with a wink as he
knelt down beside his son.
"Chuckleball," William repeated incorrectly, but
with all the seriousness of the answer to a question
on an orals review.
"Knuckle, William. Knuckleball. See, see how
Daddy has his knuckles right up against the ball?
And when you throw the ball, it doesn't spin so it
flies funny. Like this," he said, giving the ball a
pitch and the two, father and son, watched it wobble
through the air toward the net backstop Mulder had
ordered from the internet. "See? Did you see how
it went all wiggy? The pitcher won't know what's
coming at him. He'll think it's going way over out
of his strike zone so he won't swing at it."
William nodded solemnly. "Can I try, Daddy?"
"Sure thing, son. Here, just give me your hand."
Mulder took the small boy's hand and tried to
fashion the fingers around the Rawlings leather ball
in the traditional knuckle grip, but soon discovered
there was a growth issue involved. William's
toddler hands were small and the fingers were still
too stubby to get around the ball. "Well, maybe
we'll have to practice it on a tennis ball for a while.
Let's go find one of those fuzzy green balls Mommy
uses when she plays with Aunt Mary."
"Are you intending on going to class today?" Scully
called from the back door to the kitchen.
"Aw, Mom. Can't you call me in sick?" Mulder
shot back with a wide grin. Scully made a face at
him and retreated back into the kitchen.
"Daddy, are you sick?" William asked anxiously as
he looked up at his father.
"No, buddy, no. I just wanted to play hooky. Stay
home and play with you," Mulder answered
truthfully, then realized that probably wasn't the
best answer because it might lead to more
questions.
"But you have to teach class so the students can
learn," William countered, his expression just as
solemn as when he was concentrating on the
knuckleball technique.
"I know, I know. But sometimes, when the day is
this pretty and warm and you've got a good friend to
play with -- "
"I'm the good friend, right?" Will asked hopefully.
"You're my best friend, buddy," Mulder answered,
lifting his son up into his arms. "You and your
Mom and your sisters. You are all my best friends.
My best friends and my family. I love you so
much," he added, hugging the boy close.
"You're my best friend, Daddy," William agreed.
They made their way into the kitchen, which was
organized chaos at that moment. Meg had Sammi
in the infant bathtub on the kitchen table, the baby
was cooing as she splashed in the water. Scully was
sitting at the table, talking to Missy, who was
nursing again. Occasionally a workman would
come through to fill his coffee thermos and head
back to the construction on the far end of the house.
"You'd been get moving or you'll be late," Scully
warned. "It's already after 9."
"I'm always the first one there," Mulder pointed out
as he started to fill his own travel mug with coffee
but noticed the carafe only had half a cup. "What
happened to the coffee?"
"I can't have all those men working back there and
not offer them coffee," Scully said as if it were
perfectly self-evident. "Here, you can take the rest
of mine."
"It's decaf," Mulder whined. "And you put milk in
it," he added with a frown.
"I made a new pitcher of tea just a few minutes ago.
It's in the fridge," Meg offered with a grin.
"You're a life saver, Meggie," Mulder told her and
went about filling his travel mug with iced tea.
William came up behind Mulder and hugged him
around the legs. "Play hooky, Daddy," he begged.
"I would, buddy, but I really need to get to class.
You can stay and play with Meg. How does that
sound?"
"Meggie's my friend," Will told his father.
"And you are my friend," Meg told the little boy
with a smile.
"This is just a very friendly place," Mulder
pronounced and looked around for his briefcase,
which he finally found next to the front door.
Scully was behind him, carrying Missy, who was
still nursing.
"Doesn't that hurt, doing that while you're
walking?" Mulder asked with a wince.
"Not at all. As a matter of fact, Mulder, women
long ago used to carry their babies with them into
the fields as they worked."
He leaned in close, so that only Scully could hear.
"Bet you couldn't autopsy like that," he said with a
smirk.
"Try me," she countered with a self-satisfied grin
and gave him a kiss goodbye.
"I will, later. I'm late. Love you!" he called as he
bounded down the front porch steps.
It was a forty minute drive on a nice day, when
Mulder was fairly certain the Montana Highway
Patrol wasn't watching, so he made it just in time to
get to his class and set up the projector and DVD.
Soon, the classroom was filled with students,
mostly girls, he now noted after his conversation
with Scully a few mornings before. "All right
people, wipe the sleep out of your eyes, break out
the jujubes and Mike and Ikes, we have a classic on
our hands. I found '13 Ghosts' -- the original, not
that crummy remake, on Netflix the other night.
Remember, we're analyzing the plot -- "
"Plot? What plot?" joked a tan young man in the
second row.
"Very funny, Mr. Andrews," Mulder retorted in a
perfect deadpan. "If you can keep your eyes off
Ms. Halstrom halter top and up here on the screen
for the length of the movie, I think you will find that
there is indeed a plot, and a pretty complex one.
Mr. Bailey, if you would be so kind as to hit the
lights?"
An hour and a half later, there was a loud gasp as
Mulder turned off the DVD right at a particularly
suspenseful moment. "That's all the time we have
today, kiddies. We'll finish this up on Thursday."
"Dr. Hale, has anyone ever told you that you're a
sadist?" asked the young Mr. Andrews.
"If you're that into the movie, Jared, just rent it. Or
better yet, show up on Thursday. Seems like you
have a problem getting to both classes during the
week," Mulder said, folding his arms.
"I work on Wednesday nights," the young man
admitted with a blush. "I only oversleep on
Thursdays."
"Hey, I tended bar to get through college, too. I
know it's rough, but sometimes you just have to
drag your sorry -- butt -- out of bed and get to class,
ya know," Mulder commiserated.
A young lady with a flower tube top and cut off
jeans waited for him at the door. "Dr. Hale, I lost
my syllabus," she said with a sorrowful expression.
"Did I just give you one last week, Lindsay?"
Mulder asked as he walked down the hall of the
academic building, with the girl trailing behind him.
"You did, but I put it in my car and I think my little
brother made it into spit ball. I need another one,"
she said with a hopeful smile.
Mulder shook his head and opened the door to the
English Department offices. The Department
secretary, Miss Jenkins, looked up quickly when
they entered the room.
"Lindsay needs another syllabus, Miss Jenkins,"
Mulder said as he headed toward the little office
that was assigned to him and another professor.
"Dr. Hale, when you have a minute?" Miss Jenkins
said formally. Mulder was still getting used to Miss
Jenkins. He suspected the woman was older than
many of the buildings on campus. The professor he
shared his office with had jokingly said the old bat
was actually the ghost of the former Department
secretary who simply refused to leave her post.
He dropped his briefcase on his desk and grimaced.
Whenever he had to deal with Miss Jenkins he
could never shake the feeling he was being called to
the principal's office. Or called on the carpet in
Skinner's office.
That thought caused a twinge in his chest. He'd
never burdened Scully, but she wasn't the only one
who sometimes missed their old life. He often
wondered how AD Skinner had fared since their last
meeting, provided the man had even survived the
backlash that had caused the disappearance of DD
Kersh from the FBI org chart he'd found on line.
He'd noticed that AD Skinner's name was not
among the phone listings. That saddened him more
than he was willing to admit.
"Dr. Hale?" Miss Jenkins called. He realized he'd
been woolgathering while the 'old bat' was waiting.
It was time to face the music.
"Yes, Miss Jenkins? If it's about replacing the
carafe to the coffeemaker, I promise, I'll pick up a
new one before next week."
"Oh, yes, the carafe. Thank you, but that's not why
I needed to talk to you," she said primly. "There
was a gentleman here earlier today asking for you."
"A man? Asking for me? A student or maybe a
parent?" For some reason, it disturbed Mulder
greatly that someone had been looking for him. If
Scully had been around she would have accused
him of being 'Spooky' again.
"Yes. A nice gentleman, fifties, I would say. He
wore a nice suit but was terribly wrinkled. Bald,
wire rimmed glasses . . ."
Mulder's heart froze in his chest. The description
Miss Jenkins had given was Walter Skinner. But
could it really be Walter Skinner? He'd seen too
much to take things at face value. But if it really
was Skinner, what was he doing here, in Montana?
"Did he leave a name?" he asked anxiously.
"No, he didn't, though I did ask. He said he would
be by later, after class. I directed him to the student
center for coffee, since our coffee pot is inoperable
at the moment," she said and went back to her
typing.
"Um, thanks." Mulder turned and went back to his
office. He sat at his desk with the lights still off.
What should he do? Call Scully? Leave? Go
home, pack up the kids and the five of them head
for the hills, Canada, Mexico, anywhere they could
drive until they ran out of land?
But on the other hand, what if it really was Skinner
and he needed their help? Could he run from their
old boss? Could he deny anything to the man who'd
risked his career and his life to save Mulder from
certain death?
Nervously, he chewed on his bottom lip and
watched the door. When it opened a few minutes
later, he jumped a foot and then forced himself to
relax.
"If you don't mind taking a seat, I'll see if Dr. Hale
is in," Miss Jenkins said formally. Mulder could
hear them plainly. Hell, anyone in the outer office
could probably hear Mulder's heart pounding in his
chest. Miss Jenkins tapped on the doorframe, since
he'd inadvertently left the door open and smiled
thinly at him.
"Your visitor is here, Dr. Hale," she said and stood
aside. Mulder nodded, wiped his sweating palms on
his pants legs and rose stiffly. He walked slowly
toward the outer office and Jenkins gave him a look
that bordered on impatient disgust. He cleared his
throat and looked at the man sitting in one of the
waiting room chairs.
Walter Skinner had been watching the door to the
hallway when Mulder entered, but he jerked his
head around and up to face the young man. For a
moment, neither moved, neither spoke. Then,
slowly, Skinner rose to his feet. He seemed
nervous, almost as nervous as Mulder felt.
Carefully, he extended his hand. Holding it so that
Miss Jenkins didn't notice, a small cut probably
made by a penknife, marred the surface of his index
finger. A tiny drop of bright red blood hung to the
edge of the cut. Mulder's breath caught in his throat
and his fought the urge to touch the blood. Their
eyes met and Mulder nodded. "If you could join
me?" he said, jerking his head toward the door to
his office.
"Certainly, Dr. Hale," Skinner replied and smiled
wanly at Miss Jenkins, who was already back at her
typing.
Mulder led the way into the office and then moved
to close the door. As soon as the door shut, both
men let out a breath of relief. "Sir, what are you
doing here?"
"Mulder, my god, I never thought, I didn't think I'd
ever find you," Skinner said in a rushed whisper.
"How did you find me?" Mulder asked tersely.
"You bought a house. The information was slipped
to me."
"In DC?" Mulder prodded.
"No, in Los Angeles. It's a long story."
Mulder crossed his arms. "I have time."
Skinner remembered the other times he'd felt like
this, under Mulder's microscope. He knew the
younger man trusted him, probably as much as he
trusted anyone aside from Dana Scully, but that
wasn't saying much. Skinner looked around the
room, wondering if that was the best place for their
discussion. Suddenly, he eyes rested on a framed
photograph on the windowsill beside Mulder's desk.
In the picture, a smiling Mulder sat beside a radiant
Scully, his arm around her waist. William was
perched on his father's knee, mugging it up for the
camera. Scully's lap was taken up by a bulging
maternity dress; her face was full, as it had been
when she was carrying William.
Mulder watched the reaction on his former boss's
face. "That was taken on our anniversary," he said
with a fond smile.
"Anniversary? You're married?" Skinner asked.
Mulder winced. "Not exactly. Scully has decided
that we -- well, we treat March 6 as our anniversary.
People around here think we've been married 12
years."
Skinner frowned without understanding and then he
slowly nodded. "That was the day Scully was
assigned to the X Files, wasn't it?"
"The day after, actually. It was the day we left for
Oregon, on our first case," Mulder corrected.
In the darkened room, Skinner wiped at his eye and
cleared his throat. "You both -- all three of you
look very happy," he said. "You had twins? Twin
girls?"
Mulder looked at Skinner warily.
"The same way I found out about the house,"
Skinner explained with a shrug.
"Which means you aren't the only one who knows,"
Mulder said flatly.
"I had to do some digging to find you, Mulder. And
it was a long shot." Skinner was suddenly very
tired. He sat heavily on the old battered couch
along the wall. "I went to the Van de Kamps," he
said evenly. "Gibson Praise was there. He told me
William was gone and he believed he was with
you."
"The Van de Kamps were clones," Mulder said,
perching on the edge of his desk. Skinner raised his
eyebrow and Mulder shrugged on shoulder. "I can't
tell you how we got there, how we found him. I just
. . . I had a little help from above. But when we
arrived, there were two puddles of green goo on the
floor, and I found William in a crib in the basement.
It looked like they'd built the nursery down there on
purpose. I think the rock walls of the basement had
magnetite in them. There was a hole in the wall
near the crib."
"My god," Skinner gasped.
"We must have just missed the action, because
William was screaming but he was fine. Not
dehydrated or anything. He was hungry." Mulder
smiled at the memory of their first stop and
discovering that Scully's milk had come back in.
"We didn't stick around to ask questions."
"The farm was burned to the ground, recently from
the looks of it. For a while, I thought he was still
there, that they had been burned in the fire," Skinner
explained. He looked back up at Mulder. "Clones?
How could that be? I made the contacts, I made
sure that everything was handled --"
"Sir, Walter, you can't blame yourself. Even if they
were clones, they were taking good care of him. I
sometimes wonder if they were just waiting for us
to come get him. But the others, those hybrids -- "
"The supersoldiers," Skinner interrupted.
"Whatever they are, like Rohrer, they must have
gotten there first. But they didn't touch him. He
was perfect. Still, we got as far away from there as
we could that first day. We came north and settled
here."
"You've been here all this time, two years?"
Mulder nodded. "We thought we were off their
radar," he said sadly.
"Something has been happening. The men who
were on your jury, the ones Gibson told us weren't
human, they're systematically being killed."
"What's been turned up during the investigations?"
Mulder asked, leaning forward with interest.
"That's just it. There haven't been any
investigations. It's being covered up. They just
cease to exist. They have no families to put up any
protest. They're names are removed -- it's like they
never existed."
"But within the Bureau -- " Mulder blurted,
confusion plain on his face.
"I don't know what to tell you, Mulder. I'm no
longer in a position to know what goes on at the
top," Skinner said, holding his hands out in a sign of
resigned frustration.
"They didn't fire you, did they?"
"No. Worse. They put me in VCS as an agent. I'm
not even allowed in the field. Remember your old
duty on background checks?" He waited for the
young man to grimace and nod. "I think I have
your old chair."
"Damn it," Mulder huffed out a curse.
"Look, I came to warn you as much as to see you
again. I knew that if you were here, had been here
long enough to settle in, that you wouldn't be
expecting anyone to come after you now."
Mulder rubbed his face with his left hand. "I want
you to come back home with me."
Skinner shook his head. "No, Mulder, that would
be too dangerous. The last murder occurred in Los
Angeles. Agent Kallenbrunner and I both witnessed
it."
At the former prosecutor's name, Mulder flinched.
"It's all right. We're sort of on the same side. At
first I thought he might be in danger, that the
murderer might come after everyone at the trial.
But when Galbriath was killed in LA, I chased the
killer down an alley. He had every opportunity to
kill me. But he didn't."
"Maybe someone scared him off," Mulder
suggested.
"No, he even spoke to me, right before he punched
my lights out. He told me to go home, before I got
hurt."
"Not the usual greeting card of a killer," Mulder
mused.
"My thought precisely. But he might be following
me now and I can't risk leading him to your home.
Not with Scully and the little ones there."
Mulder chewed on his lip and then reached behind
him to grab the phone. Hastily he dialed a couple of
numbers and pursed his lips, waiting for the pick up
on the other end.
"Scully, it's me. I've got someone in my office who
doesn't know the meaning of the words 'you're
coming home with me.' Do you think you could
persuade him?" He then handed the phone over to
Skinner with a shit-eating grin.
Skinner's eyes flared as he took the phone and put it
to his ear. "Scully, it's Walter. Walter Skinner."
He had to hold the phone out to avoid a busted
eardrum. He tried, unsuccessfully, to get a word in
edgewise, but in the end, he was nodding, even
though the other party couldn't see him do it.
"Yes, of course. But I don't want to be a bother --
No, that' wasn't what I was implying. No, I'll be
there. We'll be leaving -- " he looked up at Mulder
for a time and the man glanced at his watch and
held up three fingers. " -- three o'clock, I guess.
Yes, I'll do that." He glared at Mulder as he handed
him the phone. "You set me up."
"Sure as shootin'," Mulder said with a smile. He
took the phone and talked to his partner for a few
brief minutes and then hung up with an "I love
you."
"Well, I have a class in an hour, so let's head over to
the local McDonald's and I'll let you spring for
lunch. Then, you're welcome to hang out here, or
sit in the class."
"What are you teaching? Psychology?" Skinner
asked, following Mulder out of the office.
"English. I have two sections this summer. Intro to
novels and Horror movies: fact or fiction."
Skinner rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Why
am I not surprised?"
Hale Household
4:00 pm
"Honey, I'm home," Mulder quipped as he ushered
Skinner into the house. "And I brought the boss
home with me. Remember, no witchcraft."
Skinner just rolled his eyes. Mulder was enjoying
himself too much. Suddenly, from the hallway, a
ball of blue and red streaked across the floor and
attached itself to Mulder's leg.
"Hi Daddy!" squealed William, hugging on for dear
life as Mulder tried to walk with the new appendage
on his leg.
"Hey, buddy! Did you have fun today?" Mulder
asked. Will nodded vigorously. "Good. I want you
to meet someone."
Will looked up and noticed that his father was not
alone. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and he
sidestepped his way around Mulder's legs until he
was peeking out from behind them. Skinner tried to
look as non-threatening as possible.
Mulder saw his son's reaction and smiled. "He's not
used to a lot of people. We have some friends and
Scully and I take him to church, but we're pretty
isolated out here."
"I understand," Skinner said casually.
Mulder knelt down so that he was eye-level with the
boy. "William, remember Mommy and me telling
you stories about where we used to live and the
people there?" The little boy was chewing on his
bottom lip, an exact replica of his father under
stress, but he nodded in acknowledgement. "Well,
this is Walter Skinner."
At that, William's eyes lit up and he smiled a big
toothy grin. "Uncle Walter!" he cried out and
lunched toward Skinner's legs, almost knocking the
man over in the process.
Skinner was stunned, but recovered quickly and
picked the child up into his arms. "Hi, William.
Boy, you sure have grown since the last time I saw
you."
"I was a baby!" William confirmed. "We used to
live far away, but now we live here by the Old
Man."
Skinner looked over at Mulder for interpretation.
"The mountain behind the house. During certain
times of the day it sort of looks like an old man,"
Mulder explained. Skinner nodded.
"Walter?" At the sound of her voice, Skinner jerked
his head up and saw Scully standing in the doorway,
a smile on her face.
Scully looked years younger than he last
remembered. Her hair was longer, pulled back in a
ponytail that made her look like a teenager. She
was wearing denim pants cut just below her knees
and a loose shirt that looked like it could have
belonged to Mulder, the sleeves rolled to her elbows
and the shirttails knotted at her waist. This was not
the world-weary traveler who had begged his help
to save her partner's life on that night two years ago.
This woman was whole and happy.
"Walter," she said again and this time stepped
forward to encircle his waist in a hug. She looked
up at him and smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes.
C'mon, dinner's almost ready. I made beef stew and
biscuits."
"I thought that's what I smelled," Mulder grinned
appreciatively. "C'mon, buddy. Let's show Uncle
Walt where he can wash up."
They had just finished dinner, Skinner couldn't
remember when he'd last tasted food, much less
enjoyed it so much, when the small radio on the
cabinet let out an ear-piercing squeal.
"Sammi's awake," William said knowingly.
When a second cry joined the first, he smiled
brightly. "Missy's awake, too, Mommy," he told his
mother.
"How is it they always seem to know when we're
eating?" Mulder groused as Scully pushed away
from the table.
"They are your daughters, Mulder. They probably
smell the food," she said. "You guys finish up.
Meggie made banana cake this afternoon. Will,
show Daddy where you helped her put the cake. I'll
be down when I get them fed."
"Call when you want to come down. I'll help
carry," Mulder called to her retreating back.
"The cake is in the pantie, Daddy," Will said,
pointing to the back of the kitchen.
"Pant-REE, Will. I'll get it. Can you get little
plates and clean forks?"
Will nodded and scurried over to the cupboard. He
pushed a step stool into place and scrambled up it,
allowing him to reach the requested plates.
Carefully, he counted. "One - two - three -- Daddy,
do I count Mommy?"
"You know Mommy loves banana cake, Will.
Better count her, too," Mulder answered.
Skinner watched in awe. Mulder carried a metal
cake pan over to the table and pulled a spatula from
the crock sitting next to the stove. By this time Will
had placed the plates and forks on the table and had
already crawled up into his booster seat,
anticipation on his chubby face. Mulder looked
over at his former superior and raised an eyebrow.
"Something wrong, Walt?" he asked, concerned.
"I just . . . I just didn't . . . I don't know what I
expected but -- " Skinner was having trouble
putting his feelings into words. "I guess I thought
you'd be in hiding."
"Living in ratty motels, changing hair color each
time we moved, never staying in one place more
than a week or two?" Mulder supplied.
Skinner looked up abruptly and held Mulder's gaze.
"Yeah, I guess so."
Mulder cut the cake and placed a small piece on one
plate, placing it in front of William. He cut three
larger pieces and placed them each on plates,
handing one to Skinner and keeping one for
himself. He put the last piece at Scully's place for
her return. "We did, you know," he said after he'd
sat down, his cake untouched.
Skinner kept silent, eating his cake, but looked over
at Mulder.
"That first night, after we'd had the run in with that
black lunged -- you know who and we'd escaped the
black helicopters, we ended up in a motel in
Roswell." Skinner cracked a smile as Mulder
continued. "We fully intended to hit the road the
next day and keep running, just as you thought we
did."
"What changed your mind?" Skinner asked.
Mulder's eyes drifted over to his son and his lips
formed a soft, fond smile. "We'd forgotten to pack
something," he said simply.
"But how . . . how did you find . . .?" Skinner didn't
want to say too much in front of the boy, it was
obvious this 'little pitcher' had inherited his father's
'big ears', not to mention an innate intelligence from
both his parents.
"I had a dream, a vision, I don't know what you
would call it. My father and Scully's, they came to
me and told me where to find . . . what we were
missing most. I drove straight there, the next day. I
didn't even tell Scully for fear it might just have
been a stupid dream, that it wasn't real. But he was
there, as I told you, in that basement. God, I'd never
been so happy and so scared in my life," Mulder
admitted with a smile. "And that was it. That
night, the second night we were on the run, I was
told to come here. I didn't know what I'd find,
didn't know how we were going to fit in. It just all
worked."
Skinner pulled off his glasses on the pretense of
cleaning them, but Mulder caught him wiping his
eyes when the older man thought he wasn't looking.
"I'm glad. I hated the thought that . . . well, let's be
honest, you two had been through more circles of
hell -- "
"'Heck,' Uncle Walter. Mommy don't like naughty
words," William advised him in hushed tones.
Skinner bit the inside of his cheek to keep from
laughing. "No, I seem to remember that about your
mother," he agreed.
Skinner helped Mulder and Will clean up after
dinner. Scully called down a little while after and
Mulder ran up the stairs to help her carry the twins
down to see their 'Uncle Walter' too. The three
adults talked quietly while Mulder rocked one baby
and Scully held the other, Will playing with Legos
at their feet. When the clock on the mantel chimed
8 o'clock, Will started to whine. "I wanna stay up
with Uncle Walter," he said, rubbing his eye with
one little fist.
"Uncle Walter will be here in the morning. Maybe
you can show him how to make oatmeal," Mulder
suggested, lifting the small boy up onto his
shoulders. "Tell Uncle Walter 'good night'."
"'Night, Uncle Walter."
"I'll be back to help with the girls in a minute,"
Mulder said as he headed for the stairs.
"Can I help?" Skinner asked, almost afraid they
might take him up on the offer.
"Sure," Scully said easily. "Here, you take Missy
and I'll take Sammi," she told him. Carefully, she
placed the infant in Skinner's large hands. He was
immediately enraptured by the tiny life he held so
close to his heart.
"She's so light," he commented.
"Thank heavens," Scully said breezily. "Believe
me, they felt like a lead balloon those last few
weeks before delivery."
Skinner ended up being pressed into service reading
William 'Dinosaur's Blanket', a story the boy knew
by heart and kept encouraging the former Assistant
Director when the man stumbled over the phrasing.
Finally, with nightlights on and kisses given, all was
quiet upstairs and the adults retreated to the living
room.
"So you think they were supersoldiers?" Scully
asked, sitting cross-legged on the sofa next to
Mulder.
"I don't know what they were, Scully. I just know
that they've been in positions of power within the
Bureau for the last two years. And now, they're
being systematically eliminated."
"Like the Smiths? Like the Igor clones?" Mulder
mused aloud.
"The supersoldiers could only be killed by
magnetite and even then it takes incredible
concentrations. Still, why would there be one man -
- "
"Maybe not a man, Scully," Mulder interrupted.
"OK," she agreed with a frown, "one 'entity' going
after all of them. From what I gathered there were
hundreds all over the world. Maybe even
thousands."
"I don't know," Skinner said with a frustrated growl
as he leaned against the fireplace. "I can only report
what I know and what I saw with my own eyes."
Scully smiled at him. "I know the feeling," she said
with a wink. She turned serious and looked over at
her partner. "Do you think he'll come for William?"
Mulder closed his eyes and let his head fall back
against the sofa. "It's possible. Maybe even
probable. Tell me more about this Josepho
character, the one who tried to take William," he
said to Scully.
She shook her head. "No, no, I won't accept that
they're connected," she said emphatically.
"Scully, they're killing supersoldiers. You were
told once that William was thought to be -- "
"No! Mulder, he's your son. Your DNA. He's not
an experiment!"
"Scully, the experiment claim was just a red
herring. I know he's mine, I see me in his looks, his
attitude and I'm not talking the fact that he's around
me to mimic me. But think about my life before
William was conceived. I was infected with the
alien virus, not once but twice. That could have
changed my DNA. I was so profoundly affected by
the rubbings on that spacecraft that I almost died. I
had a growth in my brain, Scully. And we never
knew what they did to you, not entirely. Yes, they
took your ova, but not all of them, as we've proven
twice already. Maybe they weren't harvesting as we
thought. Maybe they were pruning, so that only the
right ova remained."
Tears were streaming down her face as she glared at
Mulder. "They are our babies, Mulder. How can
you talk about them -- "
He softened and pulled her into an embrace,
stroking her hair. "I know they are our babies. I
love them. I would die for them, just as I would die
for you. I'm not saying they're freaks, I'm saying
they're special. And the qualities that make them
special could also put them in danger."
"What are you saying?" she asked, pulling back to
meet his gaze.
"Maybe we should consider leaving. Moving on."
"Running," she said flatly.
"For a while. Just until we think it's safe," he
offered. At that, she hugged him again and the tears
started once more.
"Jeff Spender said he cured William," Scully
sobbed into his shirt.
"But what about the dream?" Mulder whispered.
"The bad dream William had just a few nights ago."
"Daddy, Mommy?" All three adults looked up
suddenly as William appeared, sleepy eyed, in the
doorway to the living room.
"Hey, buddy," Mulder said. Scully sat up and
Mulder opened his arms to the boy. "C'mere. Did
we wake you?"
William shook his head, but crawled up on Mulder's
lap. Scully had turned away, wiping her eyes
before turning to smile at her son and ruffle his hair.
"Too much excitement, having Uncle Walter here,
huh, Sweetheart?"
"No, Mommy. Missy and Sam woke me."
Scully looked over at the baby monitor on the side
table and frowned. "We didn't hear them."
"No," William said, with the same exasperated look
Mulder often affected. "Not the babies. The other
Missy and Sam. The ladies!"
Mulder drew in a deep breath and licked his lips.
"What did they say this time, Will?" he asked
cautiously.
"They said to tell you to stay here. It will all be
OK."
Scully glanced over at Mulder. He shook his head
from side to side. Skinner watched them and waited
for an explanation. When one wasn't forthcoming,
he spoke up.
"Ladies? What's he talking about?"
"It's late, buddy. Daddy will take you up to bed and
tuck you in."
"Daddy, they said we'd be OK. We just have to
believe," the little boy insisted as his father hefted
him in his arms and started walking toward the
stairs. "And they said to tell Mommy not to cry."
Scully bit her lip but kept silent. She waved a timid
good night to her son and blew him a quick kiss.
"Scully?" Skinner asked when they heard Mulder's
heavy footsteps in the upstairs hall.
"He has dreams, Walter. We think . . . we think
maybe he has visitations."
"Visitations? That sounds religious," Skinner said
slowly.
"Visitations from his dead aunts. You do the math,"
Scully said wearily.
"And what he was talking about -- about staying
here? That came from . . ."
"My sister Melissa and Mulder's sister Samantha,"
Scully said, drawing in a deep breath.
Skinner's jaw dropped open. "You aren't suggesting
-- "
"Still can't believe, Walter?" Scully teased with a
sad smile. "Yes, I am suggesting. I've had a visit
myself."
Mulder rejoined them, settling back on the sofa and
drawing Scully back toward him to rest against his
shoulder. "So, I guess that handles that problem."
"We have to believe," Scully said putting her hand
on his chest and straightening up. "But we don't
have to wait here like sitting ducks."
"You want to get reinforcements?" Mulder asked.
"I think we should call Kallenbrunner," Skinner said
quietly.
Anger flashed in Scully's eyes. "No, not him. He's
a . . . a . . . that rat -- "
"Watch those naughty words, Mommy," Mulder
teased. When she flashed a glare in his directions
he held up his hands in surrender. "The man was
just doing his job, Scully."
"The Nuremburg Defense, Mulder? How lame!"
she growled with a huff. "No, I don't trust him."
"Then who?" Skinner asked impatiently.
"Do you want to call Doggett?" Mulder offered.
She shook her head. "No, I don't think we could get
him up to speed fast enough and besides, he would
never believe half of what we know. No."
"Well, I don't think Joe and Mary C. would be much
help," Mulder said through gritted teeth. "They
aren't trained and I don't want to put them in
danger."
"Scully, I know you don't like Peter Kallenbrunner.
Hell, I don't like him, either. But he did help me in
Los Angeles. And I think he's come to understand
what his role was in that trial. I think he regrets his
actions. For the record, he believes what you said
on the witness stand, at least he does now."
"You trust him, Walter?" she asked. "You trust him
with my babies lives?" Her hard expression and
dark eyes warned him to tread carefully.
"Yes, Dana. Yes, I do. I think he can help us."
She nodded once and licked her lips. "OK. Call
him. We need him here by tomorrow."
Mulder showed Skinner where the phone was in the
kitchen and he quickly placed the call. In a few
minutes, he was back. "He got a flight, he'll arrive
at Helena airport at 11 tomorrow."
"I'll pick him up," Mulder said. "You stay here with
Scully."
"You sure?" Skinner asked.
"I know these roads better than you, Walt. I'll get
there faster and be back faster," Mulder said with a
thin smile.
"Walter, have you talked to m-my mom?" Scully
asked, her voice cracking a bit under the stress.
Walter sat down near Scully and took her hand. "I
have. We talk from time to time. We went together
to Arlington Cemetery to, um, well -- "
"When? What day?" Scully asked.
"May 19, the anniversary, well, it's what has been
put on the stones," Skinner explained with some
embarrassment.
"The day the twins were born," Scully said with a
sigh.
"She knows, Scully," Skinner told her. "She called
me, just a day ago. She had a dream and you and
Mulder were holding the babies. She knows you're
safe."
"I want to call her so badly," Scully said, tears
running down her cheeks. "I miss her so much."
Mulder pulled his partner back against him again.
"You can, Scully. You can call her. Just as soon as
this is all over."
Hale (Mulder) Household
9:15 am
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with
you?" Scully asked, biting her bottom lip. She had
been hovering around Mulder all morning, when
she wasn't taking care of the kids or forcing more
food down Skinner's throat. He saw it as a defense
mechanism, so Mulder was willing to forgive and
forget, but he knew they needed to talk.
"Take a walk with me," he said suddenly, grabbing
her hand and leading her to the front door.
"The kids," she reminded him.
"We aren't going far. Meg is with the girls and I
think Uncle Walter has Will under control."
Scully snickered at that. "More like the other way
around," she whispered, so as not to be overheard
by the big man in the living room, squatting on the
floor playing Legos with the small boy.
"We're just going outside for a moment, Walter. I
won't be far," she said loud enough to be heard over
the growling sounds William was making as he
showed off his latest creation: a bright red
dinosaur.
"We're fine, Dana," Skinner called back, not
bothering to look up as he tried to disconnect two
blocks that seemed to be permanently locked
together.
The sunshine greeted them warmly as they stepped
off the porch. The air was full of the scent of
freshly cut wood and the off-putting aroma of paint
thinner and other construction site smells. They
could hear the men shouting to each other from the
work going on at the back of the house. Mulder
pulled her along until they were walking through
the trees to the right of the mowed front lawn.
There was a little wash back there that turned into a
creek in the spring rains. It still had a trickle of
water in it.
"Mulder, I don't want to go far," she warned.
"I can still see the house," he told her. Then he
pulled her into an embrace. "Now, tell me all about
it."
She breathed in and sighed. "I just don't like you
going to the airport to pick up that . . . that . . ."
"His name is Kallenbrunner," Mulder reminded her
with twinkling eyes.
"I was trying to come up with a suitable four-letter
word and none were coming to mind," she retorted.
He laughed and hugged her harder. "If there is one
thing I'm sure of, it's my ability to handle
Kallenbrunner."
She pushed against him so she could see his face.
"It never occurred to you that this could be an
elaborate set up?"
He frowned. "Skinner would never -- "
She put her finger to his lips to interrupt him and
allow her to explain. "No, Walter would never do
that. But if Walter is being manipulated . . .
Mulder, if this was some plot to find us, to find you,
wouldn't it make the most sense to use someone we
trust to carry out the deed?"
He thought about that for a moment. "I just don't
think -- "
"Well, at least that hasn't changed," she huffed and
broke from his arms to reach down and pick up
pebbles from the edge of the stream. There wasn't
enough water to skip stones as she wanted, but they
did make a satisfying 'plop' as she tossed them one
by one into the little pool by her feet.
"Hey, I don't think I deserved that," he said crossly.
"I have been thinking."
"Mulder, you run head long into every dangerous
situation you come across!"
He looked at her in silent frustration and finally
reached down to pick up some of the water-
smoothed stones. His 'plops' were louder because
they carried more force than hers. "The last two
years -- "
"The last two years _began_ because you had to
single-handedly infiltrate Mt. Weather," she
reminded him. "And for what? A date. A date that
may or may not lead to the invasion of alien
colonizers."
"Oh, so now we get to the real issue," he growled.
"Scully, I thought you believed me. Remember the
night in Roswell?"
She turned to him, her eyes shining with tears. "I
will never forget the night we spent in Roswell. But
Mulder, don't you see? If they take you, if they kill
you as they most certainly will do this time, how am
I supposed to go on?"
"If William and the girls are in danger, how am I
supposed to sit by and let something happen to
them?" he asked softly, pulling her to him again.
They just stood there, holding each other for several
heartbeats. "You need to stay here with the kids. I
could take Walter, but I want you to have the
manpower. I really don't think I'll be in danger. I
think Kallenbrunner is just as scared as we are right
now. He was an unwitting participant in the trial,
Scully. He had no idea what was going on."
"He could have stopped it," she said, looking up to
capture his gaze. "He was a former prosecutor. He
knew what they were doing was wrong."
"He was a pawn," Mulder reminded her.
She nodded, silently. He knew she wasn't
completely convinced, but was forced into a corner.
She never liked being forced anywhere. "You have
your weapons?" she asked tersely.
"I got up early this morning and cleaned them." He
pulled up the leg of his Dockers so she could see his
ankle holster and turned, pulling up his short-
sleeved polo to show her the holster on his belt.
"Think you remember how to use them?" she asked,
but her tone was lighter now.
"Oh, I can fire them all right. Now, actually hitting
a target -- well, that was always a question, wasn't
it?"
She fought the smile that threatened to break out.
"You'll call me, several times along the way," she
intoned.
"Fifteen minute updates. Sheez, not even Kersh
was this anal," he teased. At her sour expression, he
cocked his head. "Yes, I will call you along the
way. And we won't stop for anything -- black
helicopters, tanks, rocket grenade launchers on the
side of the road, Celebrity Skins centerfold
hitchhikers -- "
She rolled her eyes. "I really don't think you'll have
to worry about that last one," she said, crossing her
arms and heading back to the house.
"Hey, you have to admit, it's the prefect cover!" he
called after her.
She was waiting for him next to the car. She ran
her hand along the roof of the black Ford Explorer.
"It's still got some speed, Scully," he reminded her.
"I know. So do you. Just remember that," she
reminded him. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him
soundly on the lips. "Be safe, be careful. I love
you."
"I'll call. I love you, too," he told her, hugged her
once more and got into the car. She went up to the
porch and stood, not waving, just standing there,
already waiting for his return. He watched her in
the rearview mirror until he turned the corner.
Helena Regional Airport
10:45 am
Peter Kallenbrunner didn't know what to expect
when he got off the plane. Skinner had been
cryptic on the phone, just saying that he needed
back up on the case they'd been working together.
Kallenbrunner wasn't a field agent. He spent all of
his days in the office, looking over requests for
warrants, writing administrative orders, preparing
briefs for the Department of Justice lawyers who
normally took over prosecution of FBI cases. In
short, he was totally unprepared to back up a field
agent and scared out of his mind when he stepped
from the hot tarmac into the cool air of the Helena
Regional Airport's one multi-functioning terminal
building. That's when he came face to face with his
worst nightmare.
Fox Mulder.
A thousand thoughts scrambled and swirled through
Kallenbrunner's mind. Mulder was a convicted
killer. Mulder had escaped Death Row. Mulder
was very possibly armed and dangerous. So why
was Mulder standing there in Dockers and a polo, in
public, in a crowd of people, looking like he was
coming to pick up a family member for a vacation
in the clean, mountain air?
"Agent Kallenbrunner, it's been a while," Mulder
greeted him with outstretched hand. "Do you have
checked baggage?"
Peter fought to find his bearings. "I-I-I, uh, no. I
just have . . ." Meekly he lifted his briefcase up for
inspection.
"Ah, the kind of man who brings a knife to a gun
fight," Mulder joked and as he noticed the other
man pale at his words, he dropped his head and
chuckled. "I'm kidding, Kallenbrunner. I'm not the
enemy here."
"Where's Skinner?" Kallenbrunner finally found the
voice to ask.
"Back at our house, with Scully. I didn't want to
leave her and the kids alone and Skinner thought it
best if I picked you up because I know the area."
"Kids?" Kallenbrunner was still having a difficult
time getting up to speed.
"Our son, William. I think he was mentioned in the
trial," Mulder explained casually. "And twin girls,
six weeks old."
While they talked, they'd left the confines of the
terminal building and were now approaching a
black SUV parked in the lot. Kallenbrunner
grabbed Mulder's arm and spun the man around to
face him.
"It was a set up, a lie! She didn't put the boy up for
adoption. You had the kid secreted somewhere,
waiting for your escape. Her testimony was staged!
What else was a lie? All of it?" he demanded.
Mulder sighed heavily and shook off
Kallenbrunner's arm. He waited while other people
walked passed them to their cars. "This isn't the
place to get into this."
"Where is the place?" Kallenbrunner asked
defiantly, crossing his arms.
"In the car, maybe," Mulder offered, unlocking the
driver side door. Reluctantly, Kallenbrunner got in
on the passenger side.
Hale Household
11:00 am
Skinner looked up at Scully, watching her as she
spoke on the phone. She looked relieved when she
hung up.
"Was that Mulder?"
"Yes," she said and let a small smile play across her
face. "The flight was on time, they're on the way
back. It should take them about an hour."
"Good," Skinner acknowledged.
Meg Hawthorne came into the room and smiled
shyly at Skinner before going to stand next to
Scully. "The girls are bathed and changed and I just
put them down for a nap. Can I help you make
lunch?"
"Meg, how does your mother get along without
you?" Scully asked affectionately as she swiped a
lock of honey blonde hair behind the girl's ear.
"Oh, she says I only work this hard for other
people," Meg said happily, going to the refrigerator
to pull out meat and cheese. "Is it all right if I take
off in a few minutes? A friend of mine called this
morning and said the pool is open, so we're going to
go swimming."
"That should be fine, Meg. You've been a big
help."
"Will Mr. Hale and his friend be back for lunch?
His other friend, I mean," Meg corrected with a
quick, nervous glance back at Skinner.
"Yes, there should be four adults and then Will.
Where is he?" Scully asked, looking around. "Oh,
darn, he better not be bothering the workmen again.
I should go find him."
"Dana, you work on lunch. I'll find the little guy,"
Skinner offered, glad for a chance to move around.
In truth, he was as nervous as Scully and would be
until Mulder and Kallenbrunner arrived.
"Thanks, Walter," Scully said, and went back to
making sandwiches with Meg.
Skinner looked downstairs, and then upstairs,
finally finding the boy sitting in the hallway outside
his sisters' nursery, playing with cars.
"Hey, William, your mom's looking for you," he
said, gathering up the cars in his large hands and
helped William rise to his feet. "Let's go downstairs
to the kitchen and let the babies sleep."
William frowned and looked back at the partially
closed door to the nursery. After a tug on his hand,
he followed Skinner down the stairs.
Outside, over where the newest part of the house
was coming into place, one of the men looked up at
the window with the pink ruffled curtains fluttering
in the breeze. "I need to run back to the shop and
get the other 'saws-all', Mike. This one just started
smokin'."
"Shit, what else can go wrong today? Sure, Chuck.
Just hurry. We want to get the plywood up today so
we can put the windows in tomorrow," the foreman
answered.
Chuck nodded and started to walk around the front
of the house. A breeze caught his long brown hair
and threatened to blow it off the back of his neck.
Carefully, he adjusted his hat, ensuring that the
three bumps between his shoulders would continue
to be hidden from view.
The Road between Helena and Mt. Airy
11:30 am
"So you're saying that these, what, these men who
are disappearing are hybrids, they aren't human?"
Kallenbrunner asked, not bothering to hide his
disbelief.
"Scully can tell you more, she's the expert in the
area. But yes, they are hybrids, created to ensure
the alien colonization that our government is hiding
from the populace. The date for colonization is just
8 years away."
"And with this knowledge, you're sitting quietly in
western Montana, raising kids -- that's absurd!"
"What can we do about it?" Mulder growled. "We
were there when one of the major players was
eliminated. Two, if you count Rohrer, who was
movin' pretty good for a dead man the last time we
saw him," he added with a sneer. "But you're little
part in this drama guaranteed that we had no choice
but to lay low, to get out of the game."
"Look, at the trial, I was -- "
"Doing your job, yeah, that's what I told Scully. I
have to thank you. You did a hellava job. Bringing
up our child like he was a tabloid headline,
hammering on her how she'd given him up for
adoption. Ripping her to shreds on that witness
stand! If we weren't in such desperate need of
manpower, I'd stop this car and stomp the shit out of
you, you son of a bitch," Mulder roared.
Kallenbrunner swallowed and stared out the
passenger side window. "I'd feel the same way, if I
were in your shoes," he said quietly. "And I know
it's a little late, and not worth much, but I am sorry.
Not just for the things I said, but for my part in this.
I thought I was doing the right thing, I believed in
my superiors."
Mulder digested that for a moment before speaking.
"And now?"
Kallenbrunner continued to stare at the incredible
mountain scenery. "Now, I don't know what to
believe. But my gut tells me to trust you on this."
Mulder nodded. "For what it's worth, I accept your
apology."
"Good," Kallenbrunner said, turning to look at the
former defendant. "Now, explain to me about that
green goo stuff."
Mulder glanced at his watch and the surrounding
landmarks. "I better give you the TV Guide
Highlights version. We're almost home."
Hale household
12:10 pm
Mulder pulled into the driveway, and stopped the
engine. He frowned, looking at the house. The
construction crew wasn't working, but it occurred to
him it was probably lunch hour. Even so, the men
had usually taken lunch in the shade of the big trees
in the front of the house, away from the work site.
"Is everything all right?" Kallenbrunner asked as he
exited the car.
"Yeah, fine," Mulder replied absently. Even as he
spoke, he unclipped his holster and pulled out his
gun, keeping it low by his leg.
He wanted to call out, but at the same time, he
couldn't overcome the feeling that something was
wrong. Carefully, he opened the screen door and
entered the house, allowing Kallenbrunner in before
stopping the door and closing it just as silently. He
heard noises coming from the kitchen.
"Where is the shop?" It was Skinner and he
sounded pissed.
"J-j-just up the road in Mt. Airy. Not more than ten
minutes drive," came a very nervous male voice.
"And this guy took off how long ago?" It was
Skinner's interrogator's voice; Mulder would have
recognized it anywhere. He broke into a trot and
skidded to a stop when he reached the kitchen door.
Scully was standing, holding William close with
tears streaming down her face. The man Skinner
was questioning sat on a chair, white as a sheet.
Skinner was as angry as Mulder could ever
remember seeing him. The older man's head jerked
up when he heard Mulder enter. Mulder found
himself facing Skinner's aimed weapon until the
recognition hit and Skinner lowered the gun. He
turned his attention back to the witness and
continued his questions.
"How long, how long has he been gone?"
"Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes," the man
stumbled over the words.
"How long has he been on your crew?"
"He just came on a couple of days ago. But he had
references! We checked him out. He was bonded,"
the man explained and turned pleading eyes toward
Scully. "I'm sorry, ma'ma, I'm so sorry."
"What happened?" Mulder whispered in a hoarse
voice. Scully realized he was in the room and
launched into his arms, William caught in the
middle of their embrace.
"The girls. One of the men took the girls," she
sobbed.
"When?"
"Just a few minutes ago. A truck is gone."
"No, we would have passed them on the road.
Scully, they're still here."
"Mulder, the trucks are four-wheel drive, he could
have taken them cross country."
"No, we would see the tracks. He's on foot, he just
wants us to think he took the truck."
"Where would he go?" Scully demanded, her voice
raw from crying.
Mulder thought for a moment, his eyes coming to
rest on the view out the back screen door. "The
mountain. He could hide them there, get away
when we're all gone looking for the truck. I bet we
find the truck up there, too, hidden."
"Then we go look. Mulder, we have to find them,"
she said, wiping at her eyes.
"Mommy?" Will asked, patting her cheek.
"Buddy, not now," Mulder said, patting his back.
"Mommy, when can I wake up?" William asked,
ignoring his father.
Scully's face threatened to break again, but she bit
her lip and brushed the hair off her son's forehead.
"I wish we could all wake up, sweetie."
Kallenbrunner and Skinner interrogated the rest of
the crew. None of them knew the new man or much
about him. Finally, Skinner told the men they could
go.
Mulder was pacing the kitchen, staring out the back
door. "He's got them up there, Scully. I know it,"
he growled, chewing on his lip until a drop of blood
showed in the corner.
"Then we go look," she said, handing William to
Skinner.
"What? No, wait, you have to stay here," Skinner
objected. "I'll go with Mulder."
Scully's entire expression froze and she glanced
down at William. "Will, pick up your cars and take
them into the living room for a moment. Mr.
Kallenbrunner will go with you." The three men
exchanged glances and Mulder dropped his gaze.
He knew there was a storm brewing and just hoped
to ride it out.
Kallenbrunner smiled at the boy. "C'mon, William.
Show me your other toys." The two left the room
quickly. As soon as they were out of sight, Scully
turned on Skinner.
"If you for one minute think I am going to stay
behind while you two go search for my daughters,
you are in for a rude awakening," she hissed, her
eyes on fire. "Have you lost any memory you had
of me? Do you honestly think I've been that
domesticated?"
Skinner had the good grace to flinch at that
comment.
"Now, we are wasting precious time. If you want to
help us, stay here with William!"
"Scully," Mulder interrupted meekly. "I think I'd
rather have Skinner with us. Kallenbrunner can
watch Will."
She glared at him for a moment, just for his
impertinence. Their eyes met and she searched his.
He knew she was asking if they could trust the
former prosecutor. He also knew that she would
trust his judgment of the man. He nodded his head
once.
"OK. Walter, tell Kallenbrunner he's to stay here
and protect my son." Her eyes told him what would
happen to the man if anything were to happen to the
child. She turned to Mulder. "I want everyone
armed. You know where my gun is. Go get it. I'll
go get the flashlights. We'll head out the back and
take the trail up the mountain."
Peter Kallenbrunner sat on the floor, looking at the
small boy playing with his cars and trucks. The kid
wasn't much different from his own son at that age.
Mike was 13 now and was into comic books and,
heaven forbid, girls. But it was easy to remember
the time when he would sit on the floor and play
with toy cars for hours.
The former prosecutor-turned-agent was so intent
on the little boy that the attack was completely
unexpected. One minute there was pain, right along
the back of his neck where his head met his spine
and then nothing, total blackness.
William looked up at the sound and his eyes grew
wide. He started to scramble backward, looking for
anyone to run to. But a big hand reached down and
latched onto his arm in a firm but not painful grip.
"Come with me," said the voice that William would
never forget.
Hale Household
12:35 pm
"I want my mommy!" William cried as the large
man picked him up and cradled him in his arms.
"I'm taking you to her," came the deep voiced reply.
"Why did you hurt Mr. Peter?" William asked,
sniffing loudly and twisting to see over the man's
shoulder. Kallenbrunner hadn't moved since he'd
been hit. William knew his mom could make the
man better, but his mom wasn't there.
"He would have been hurt. He's safer here."
William turned back around and looked up at the
man holding him. "Who are you?" he asked,
wiping his nose with his tee shirt since he knew his
mom wasn't around to holler at him.
"I'm a friend."
William searched the man's eyes and recognized
something there. The little boy smiled.
On the Trail up the Mountain
They hadn't spoken since they'd left the landscaped
area of the backyard. Mulder was in the lead,
Scully right behind him, Skinner bringing up the
rear. Scully was searching the right of the trail,
Mulder the left. Scully stopped and pointed to
something about ten yards off the path. A rusted
pick up with the construction company's name on
the side was sitting empty. They circled the vehicle
and Mulder wordlessly pointed to a flat tire on the
driver's side rear wheel.
"So he's on foot," Skinner said with relief.
"The mountain is riddled with old mine shafts and
caves," Mulder said, his voice tense. "It's going to
be hard to find him.
"So let's get going," Scully impatiently hissed.
Skinner looked over at her and gave her a grim
smile. She'd fooled him the day before, looking so
much like any young mother. He'd forgotten that
she was as battle-tested as her partner -- as Skinner
himself, for that matter.
Mulder was already a few yards up the path.
Hale Household
The man let William down on the ground and was
holding his hand gently. "We have to hurry. If you
get tired, I'll carry you," he told the boy.
"Did you take my baby sisters?" William asked. It
was a long way up to see the man's face and the
small boy's neck was beginning to hurt for the
trying.
"No. Someone very bad took them. He thinks you
and your sisters can hurt him."
William looked up again, amazed. "They're just
babies. They can't hurt you. 'Less they grab your
hair. That hurts my mom," he said confidently.
"Sometimes, when Meggie forgets to cut their nails,
they can scratch," he added, showing a healing
scratch only an inch long on his arm.
"They can hurt him, they can kill him and his kind.
As can you," the man said in the same
expressionless voice he'd been using since he'd first
spoken to the child.
"Me?" William asked, incredulous. "My mom
would get real mad at me. She doesn't like my dad
to even talk about hunting squirrels!"
"You are special, William. You and your sisters.
You are the hope of your world."
William just looked at the man, not sure what he
was talking about. "Are we gonna find my mom?"
"Soon, William. Very soon."
The mountainside
The three stopped at a point where the trail
branched off. Mulder glanced over at Scully and
saw the determined look on her face. How was she
managing to continue, he wondered. All he wanted
to do was curl into a ball and hope the end would
come soon. He'd lost their daughters! He never
should have left them, never should have gone to
the airport. He should have been there. A million
thoughts were careening through his mind. Then,
he felt it. A small, warm hand was slipping into his
larger one. He looked down and saw her blue eyes
giving him a grim smile.
"We'll find them, Mulder. We just have to hurry."
He wanted to pull her into a hug, kiss her long and
hard for understanding, for knowing what he
needed, but there wasn't time.
"Which way?" Skinner was still there, Mulder had
almost forgotten there were three of them on the
search.
"He's in the caves," Mulder said shakily, nodding to
the trail that headed to the left.
"He could have gone up," Scully suggested, looking
toward the peak of the Old Man.
"No, he wants to hide them until dark. Then he'll
sneak them out. He may be waiting for others,"
Mulder reasoned.
Scully closed her eyes. "He could call to them, I
suppose. I have no idea how they can communicate
with one another."
"Then we better hurry," Skinner interjected and
headed off down the trail to the left.
"Mulder, you didn't do this," Scully said, although
he no longer needed to hear the words.
"I know," he admitted.
"We will find them," she said firmly.
"I just hope we're not too late," he choked out.
She tilted her chin up, squeezed his hand and pulled
him along after her. They had to hurry to catch up
to Skinner.
Several yards behind
"Why?" William asked as the two of them hiked
steadily up the trail. The bounty hunter looked
down at the boy and frowned.
"Why did that man take my baby sisters?" William
repeated.
"He wanted to lure your parents away." At
William's confused look, the man realized he was
dealing with an immature intelligence. "He wanted
to trick them, lead them to where he can try and hurt
them."
"Like the bad guys in the movies?"
"Yes, like bad guys," the hunter concluded.
"Without your parents, you won't grow up to be
who you are supposed to be."
"I'm tried," William decided. Tired and a little
afraid. But he knew they had to hurry.
"I'll carry you," said the hunter. With William in
his arms, they made better time.
Inside the mountain
Skinner was having a hard time keeping up, the
ceiling of the cave was too low and both he and
Mulder had to bend over. Scully was in the lead
and there was no slowing her down.
They'd come in this cave by chance. There had
been no footprints, but the ground outside was
primarily crushed rock and wouldn't have revealed
any. Skinner's heart was sinking. He couldn't help
thinking that he'd been in the house, he'd been left
behind to protect Scully and the children. He'd
failed in that charge once before and he was just
now beginning to live with the results.
He was studying the floor of the cave as they ran
when something caught his eye.
"Hold up!" he shouted and stooped over to pick up
the object that had glowed in the beam of his
flashlight. His eyes lit up with he saw what he had.
"Scully, look!" He handed the small thing over to
her and she gasped and clutched it.
"It's from Sammi," she said, turning the tiny white
sock over to Mulder. "Meg put Sammi in her pink
sundress."
Mulder's flashlight glowed on the tiny pink bow
that was stitched to the lacy ruffle on the top of the
baby's sock. "They came this way," he said
confidently. He handed the sock back to Scully, but
only have brushing it against his cheek. "We're on
the right path."
"Do you know this cave?" Skinner asked hopefully.
"Some of it. We passed that part a long time ago.
Will and I found it hunting mushrooms. But we
never went this far," Mulder admitted.
"So we don't know what's ahead?" Skinner saw that
he'd only voiced what the other two had already
realized.
"We go as fast as we can, but let me lead," Mulder
said evenly. Scully shot him a look, but upon
seeing his steady gaze she nodded and moved aside
to allow him in front. "Keep checking out the
ground, see if we find anything else."
"This could be bait," Skinner said. When there was
no response, he knew they'd already thought along
those lines.
"Let's get moving," Mulder said gruffly and headed
off again.
Further along the cave
The twins, for their small age, were amazingly
quiet. The thing that had once been a man looked
down at them and scowled. Two sets of china blue
eyes stared back at him. It almost looked as if they
were thinking, planning. He was fearful of them.
He wanted to destroy them, but not yet. That would
be against orders.
He stumbled and almost dropped the twin dressed in
pink. The twin dressed in green reached out a
chubby hand and grasped her sister's dress. If the
thing now known as Chuck let himself believe he
could almost say they were communicating, looking
out for one another. But in the deep recesses of his
new brain, he remembered that babies as young as
these weren't capable of higher forms of
communication and were completely centered on
self -- their own hunger and comfort.
Why were they growing so heavy? It was taking
more and more of his strength to carry them, but
they had been so light when he'd picked them up
from their matching cribs. He'd been assured his
strength was unending, that it was more than
enough to carry out his mission. So why was he
stumbling with every other footstep and his arms
felt like lead as he held the tiny infants? The babies
weren't even squirming, another oddity he would
have recalled if he'd been able to focus his attention
on the girls and not on his own sapping strength.
But he had to keep going. He'd mapped out the
location days before even joining the construction
crew. Just a few more minutes and they would be
in the spot -- the perfect spot for an ambush.
At the Hale Household.
"Dana, Ellery?" Mary C. stood on the porch
looking in the screen door. The house had a few
scattered lights on, but otherwise seemed empty.
Meg's car, or rather Joe's old beat up Civic they'd
given her, was not in the driveway, but the Hales'
car was. The workmen were gone, but it was
nearing 3:00 and that usually meant the end of the
day for most crews starting at 7 am. Still, where
could everyone be?
"Dana, it's me, MC. I brought the labels for the
church picnic. Hey, is anybody home?" Maybe
they were all in the back, playing in Ellery's new
'Yankee Stadium-West,' as Joe had dubbed the
makeshift diamond. "Are you out back?" she
called, starting to step off the porch. Just then, she
heard a groan coming from the open living room
window.
Hurrying to the window, she peered in. A man,
from what she could see, was lying on the floor and
he groaned again. No one else seemed to be
around.
"Dana, I'm coming in!" she announced loudly and
rattled the door with enough force to jiggle the lock
and open it. In a second she was at the man's side.
He had a huge lump on the back of his head and
small trickle of blood ran down his neck.
"Easy, easy does it," she murmured, as she looked
him over, trying to see if he had other injuries. He
was dressed in a suit and his hair was neatly cut. As
he became more and more aware of his
surroundings he sat up, startled.
"Where's the boy?" he demanded and reached for
his gun that was holstered on his belt.
Mary C.'s eyes flew wide and she scooted back,
holding her hands up in surrender. "What boy?
William? I don't know; I'm trying to find Dana and
Ellery."
Kallenbrunner looked at the woman, who appeared
harmless so he lowered his weapon. "They're
looking for the girls, a construction worker took
them. I was watching William. Someone hit me
and took him."
"Oh god," Mary C moaned. "We have to call the
sheriff."
Kallenbrunner rubbed the back of his head and
winced when he hit the sore spot. "I think that
might be a good idea."
At the mouth of the Cave
"What's your name?" The question came as a
surprise to the large man carrying the little boy, but
he reminded himself how exceptional the child was.
Still the question itself was not an easy one to
answer and not particularly critical to the task he
had before him.
"Just call me 'Friend'."
The boy seemed satisfied with that answer. He'd
finally flung his little arms around Friend's neck,
making it easier to carry him. But after they'd gone
a few yards into the darkened cave, the child
stiffened.
"What is wrong?" Friend asked.
"It's dark," William replied, as if that was all the
explanation needed.
Friend shifted the child and searched through a
pocket of his jacket, coming up with a long thin
flashlight. He flicked it on one handed and William
smiled in its beam.
"Better?" The boy nodded enthusiastically. After a
few more yards, though, he started to squirm in
Friend's arms.
"William, not now."
"Put me down. Please." The last word was added
almost as an afterthought, a remembrance of a not
too distant reprimand.
"We have to hurry," Friend answered impatiently.
"Please. I can run," William promised.
With a worried expression, the big man placed the
child on the floor. Immediately, William started
picking up small rocks near the walls of the caves.
"William, we have to hurry," Friend reminded him.
"Jus' a minute," the child retorted and grabbed
another handful of pebbles before grabbing Friend's
large hand. "OK, c'mon!" the child demanded, as if
Friend were the one causing the hold up.
In the cave
The passageway opened up to a cavern about the
size of a living room. There were boulders and
stalagmites scattered about, perfect for hiding
behind. The entity that had been Chuck stumbled
and dropped behind one of the boulders, almost
losing the twin in green to the floor. He shifted and
leaned against the cold stone, panting for breath.
What was wrong with him?
The babies looked at him, almost as if they were
studying him. Neither of the twins had made a
sound all the time they'd been on the run. Now,
they looked at him owlishly, blinking in tandem.
He glanced down at them impatiently. He wanted
to be done with this. He should just crush them as
he waited for the others. But that was against his
programming. They were to be studied, like the
other boy. Only after anyone who might come after
them had been killed.
Along the passageway
Mulder came to a fork in the passage and stopped.
He turned immediately to Scully.
"Left," she said confidently.
"I think right," Mulder said, pulling on his bottom
lip.
"No time to think. You two go left, I'll go right,"
Skinner said, pulling out his flashlight and calmly
pushing past the two parents to the passage on the
right.
"Once an AD . . .," Mulder muttered and Scully
gave him a ghost of a smile. She grabbed his hand
for a quick squeeze before they start off down the
passageway again.
They didn't hear the footsteps behind them as
William and his new Friend come to the same fork.
Without a thought, William pulled Friend into the
passageway on the right.
Skinner hadn't gone far when the passageway
opened up. He flashed the light around the large
cavern. The boulders seemed to dance in the path
of his beam. He wiped sweat off his forehead, even
though the cave was a cool 62 degrees, all the
running and fear for the babies had left him
sweating. He heard a sound, off in the cavern. One
of the infants started to whimper and was followed
immediately by the other one.
Skinner bit his lip, traded the flashlight for his
service weapon, holding the flashlight just above
the gun so that he was sweeping his target area with
the beam. The sound of the babies' cries was
unnerving and worse yet the curved walls of the
cavern caused an unnatural echo. He wasn't sure
from where the sound was coming. Slowly,
deliberating every footstep, he approached the
center of the cavern.
From his left, there was movement, sudden,
menacing. He spun and brought up his weapon,
only to have it and his flashlight knocked from his
hands. There were hands on his neck and he could
no longer breathe, his windpipe was being crushed .
. .
In an instant, the crushing stopped and Skinner felt
himself lifted off his feet and tossed across the room
like a rag doll. As he blinked several times, slowly
erasing the black spots before his eyes, he could see
that his flashlight had landed upright against one of
the boulders. The beam shot straight up and
illuminated the whole room. Just to his right now,
two men were locked in a struggle. Much to his
surprise, a small hand was helping him sit up. It
was William.
After assuring that Skinner was all right, William
scurried away, behind another boulder. Skinner
looked frantically for his weapon, finally spying it
on the ground just a few feet from where the two
were still locked in a deadly battle. Hands were at
throats, eyes were bulging on both men. The
flashlight wasn't powerful, it cast large shadows and
the room was more gloom than light so the battle
took on a surreal look, as if in an old black and
white movie. The babies were crying and Skinner
rolled to his knees, trying to home in on their
voices. He could hear bones cracking loudly and it
appeared one of the combatants had the upper hand
and would soon be victorious. He wasn't sure he
was happy with that possible outcome.
Out from the shadows, William darted once again,
one hand stuffed in his pockets. Skinner grabbed
for the boy, but William danced around him
gracefully, running right up to the two warriors.
Skinner called out to him, but the boy ignored him.
William pulled out a handful of pebbles, throwing
them at the man who appeared to be winning.
That was all it took to turn the battle. As the one
fighter scrubbed at his face, writhing in pain, the
other brought his locked fists up and landed a
shuddering blow to the head. The first combatant's
head snapped back and he fell to his knees. A
second blow brought him to the floor where he fell
into a fit before disintegrating into steel gray dust.
Skinner swallowed, rubbing his throat. The victor
turned to the small boy and smiled.
"Thank you," he said, bowing slightly to the boy.
"You're welcome," William said politely.
"William?" Skinner asked, trying to get to his feet.
The victor of the battle towered over him, and
Skinner looked up with apprehension.
"It's OK Uncle Walter. This is Friend," William
said casually, helping Skinner get to his feet.
"Thank you," Skinner said with a curt nod.
"Here you are!" William cried as he looked behind
another boulder. Skinner and Friend walked around
the pile of dust that had been the supersoldier to see
where William where had found the babies.
Friend picked up each child in one hand and
Skinner held his breath. Then Friend carefully
handed both twins to Skinner. "They look
unharmed." The babies stopped crying instantly
and looked up at Skinner.
"They're fine," William replied, stroking Sammi's
bare foot. "Sammi lost a sock. Mom's gonna be
mad!" the little boy warned, shaking his head in
dismay.
After all the tension of the last few weeks, it was
more than Skinner could bear. What started out as a
chuckle turned almost instantly into a knee
weakening, full body guffaw. He almost dropped
one of the twins, but Friend snatched the baby just
in time. That was enough to bring Skinner slowly
back to his senses. He leaned against a rock,
cradling the infants.
Before he had a chance to speak, Mulder was at the
arch to the passageway, gun drawn on Friend.
"Step away from my children," Mulder growled,
releasing the safety with one flip of his finger.
William threw himself in front of Friend. "No,
Daddy! Don't hurt him!"
"William, come to Mommy!" Scully ordered when
she took his place beside Mulder. "Please, sweetie,
come to Mommy," she pleaded.
"No! Daddy can't hurt my Friend!" William
insisted.
"He's not your friend, Will," Mulder ground out,
never taking his eyes off his prey. "Now go to your
mother."
William looked at his parents and then up at Friend.
He turned back to his father. "No."
Skinner juggled each baby to a more secure
position, wondering how Scully and Mulder had
made it look so easy the night before. He walked
slowly over and handed the girls back to their
mother. Then he reached up and put his hand on
Mulder's outstretched arm, lowering the gun.
"Will's right, Mulder. He saved me. He saved all
of us."
"The bad man wanted to take us. Just like my
dream, Daddy," William explained. Now that his
father was no long threatening his friend, William
rushed forward and threw his arms around Mulder's
legs tightly. "Friend helped me. He didn't hurt us.
'Cept, Peter."
"Kallenbrunner?" Skinner spun and shot a menacing
look at Friend.
"I temporarily disabled him," Friend replied coolly.
"He hit him on the head. Mommy, you have to go
fix him. I'll get the band-aids!" William cried and
started out of the cavern into the passageway.
Mulder reached out and grabbed the boy by the
shirttail, stopping his progress.
"We'll all go together," Mulder intoned. Will
looked contrite and nodded, taking his father's
outstretched hand.
When they came out into the fresh air, the sun was
setting, throwing the surrounding woods into deep
shadows. Mulder had Missy in one arm, his other
arm around Scully who was cradling Sammi.
William was holding tight to Skinner's hand, but
occasionally would reach over and take the hand of
his new friend. Friend stopped and William pulled
on Skinner's hand to alert him.
"It's time for me to leave you," Friend said as he
bent low to speak directly to William.
"Are you gonna come back?" Will asked.
For the first time since he'd arrived, Friend smiled
faintly. "If you need me, I will be there."
Scully stepped over to the man, put a free hand on
his arm. "Who are you? Why did you help us?"
"I was sent to help you. There are others like me.
We will always be watching." He reached toward
her and gently pulled at the cross hanging from her
neck. His smile returned for a moment as he looked
into her eyes. He then reached under his collar and
pulled out a tiny silver colored chain. On the end
was a charm of several multicolored loops,
interlocked. "We also believe," he said.
"The colonization. It's set for eight years. Will it
happen?" Mulder asked.
Friend looked him in the eye. "Not if we can help
it."
"What can we do, how can we prevent it?" Skinner
asked.
"That is not your concern. Trust me when I tell you
that we will not allow it to happen."
"So what are we supposed to do now?" Mulder
asked.
"Love each other," Friend said quietly. In the blink
of an eye, he was gone, right before their eyes.
No one moved for several minutes. Skinner was
beginning to wonder if the others were even
breathing. Suddenly, one of the twins let out a
high-pitched squeal, followed immediately by the
other. Scully looked over at her partner. "They're
starving. Let's get home."
Mulder nodded. Skinner automatically picked up
William and the three adults carried the three
children back to the house.
As they approached the structure, Scully stopped
short. The house was in an uproar. Several sheriffs'
deputies were searching the backyard and two
approached them, hands on holstered weapons.
"Identify yourselves, please," one of the deputies
asked with barely veiled intent to fire laced through
his calm demeanor.
"I'm Ellery Hale, this is my wife Dana and our
children. This is Special Agent Walter Skinner with
the FBI," Mulder said calmly, his movements slow
and measured to show no sign of threat.
"It's all right, Deputy! Those are the victims,"
called out Peter Kallenbrunner, coming down the
steps of the back porch. He reached the group and
vigorously shook Skinner's hand. "I was certain
we'd find you dead," he said, then dropped his gaze
in contrition when he realized he'd spoken the
words in front of William.
"My friend killed the bad guy!" William announced
proudly. Glances were exchanged between Mulder,
Scully and Skinner and Scully spoke up.
"William, you've had a big day -- " She was
interrupted by a squeal from the back porch.
"Oh my god, you're safe! Oh, thank God, thank
God!" Mary C. came rushing down the steps and
swept William in her arms, kissing his head, before
turning to kiss both the babies. "Oh, I was so
worried! I got here and Agent Coleman was on the
floor -- "
"_Kallenbrunner_" Peter corrected with a slight roll
of his eyes.
" -- and we called the sheriff. They searched the
house, we couldn't find anything. The agent said
one of the construction workers took the babies and
someone took William and I was terrified -- "
"MC, we're fine," Scully assured their friend.
"Would you mind taking Will up to the bathroom
and give him a quick bath. He's filthy from running
through the caves. I need to feed the girls
someplace quiet. Ellery, Walter, I'll let you handle
the nice deputies." Scully and Mary C. beat a fast
exit into the house.
"Should we be taking the kids to the hospital to
have them checked out?" one of the deputies asked.
"No," Kallenbrunner said, shaking his head. "They
appear fine and they're in good hands now. Let's
take this inside so these gentlemen can make a
statement. But remember what I told the sheriff,
this family is in the Witness Protection Program and
there will be some questions they aren't at liberty to
answer."
Mulder shot Kallenbrunner a grateful look. Skinner
gave him a nod in appreciation for his quick
thinking.
Later that night, after the children were tucked in, as
well as the two houseguests, Mulder lay on their
bed on his back, hands locked behind his head, deep
in thought.
"I'm exhausted," Scully said tiredly as she crawled
into bed next to her partner. "Hey, plan on getting
under the covers?"
He looked over at her with a befuddled expression
and only acknowledged her question when she
pulled on the blankets under his back. "Oh, yeah,"
he said, rolling over to allow her to pull the bedding
down and then helping tug it in place. Almost
instantly, his hands were again behind his head and
he was back to staring at the ceiling.
Scully turned off the bed table lamp and plunged
the room into darkness. It had taken Scully some
time to get used to the pitch-blackness that was
night in the mountains. Having spent the better part
of her life in medium to large cities, the absence of
light pollution was a difficult adjustment. Mulder
once told her he only got used to it when he was
living with Gibson Praise in a trailer in the middle
of the New Mexico desert. Finally, after two years,
the darkness had become comforting to Scully.
When there was a full moon, the light was almost
too bright. She remembered how the twins were
most likely conceived on a night with a full moon.
She lay there in the darkness, studying her partner
in his contemplative state. She knew what he was
thinking about. It had been in the back of her mind
all evening. Through the commotion, the police
statements, she'd thought of little else. Even while
the deputies were traipsing over her flower and
vegetable gardens looking for possible footprints to
a man that had been rendered a pile of carbonized
shavings in a cavern in the mountain, she'd asked
herself the question a thousand times. Now she
wanted his thoughts on the matter.
"Mulder, do you think it's over?"
He lay there a moment and just when she was ready
to ask the question a second time, he rolled on his
hip and drew her toward him. "I have no reason
and very little evidence to believe it's over, Scully."
She tensed at his words and her heart fell. "But I
do."
She looked at him, just making out his eyes in the
gloom.
"I do believe it's over," he repeated, speaking
distinctly.
"You believe Friend was sent to help us?" she
asked.
"I believe that there is something going on out there
that we have very little knowledge of. I don't know
if we're even ready to look beyond the veil, as it
were. But I also think there are forces at work that
we do understand, in a rudimentary way and those
forces are working on our behalf."
She smiled at him. "Is that an agnostic's
explanation of God?" she teased.
He smiled back at her. "I haven't been an agnostic
for quite some time, I'll have you know. I've seen
too many miracles to doubt the existence of a higher
power. I don't know if the only way to find it is
weekly attendance at Mass or life as a hermit. I just
know that you've given me what faith I have and it's
in that light that I can believe we are finally safe."
"I believe it, too," she said. She laid her hand on his
shoulder, her leg thrown over his leg. Their
foreheads touching, they fell into a deep and restful
sleep.
The Hale Household
the next morning
It seemed a little odd, sitting around the table eating
pancakes, but Walter Skinner welcomed the feeling
of normalcy it gave. Kallenbrunner chatted with
William about his lego dinosaurs, Mulder dabbed
maple syrup on Missy's lips when Scully wasn't
watching and Walter sat happily cradling Samantha
in his arms. It was all so peaceful and quiet.
"Walter, I think your cell phone is ringing," Scully
said, breaking the spell.
Skinner looked up, confused.
"Remember, you were almost out of battery. You
put it on my charger in the living room."
He nodded and got up, placing Sammi in her
mother's arms. As he made his way into the living
room, Skinner almost resented the intrusion of the
phone. He wasn't ready to leave this place and go
back to the way things were.
"Skinner," he said gruffly.
"Walter? Walter, this is Kim. How are you? I was
beginning to get worried again."
He relaxed at the sound of her voice. "Kim, I'm
sorry, I've been so busy. I'm fine. I have a lot to
tell you. How are things going out there?"
"That's what I'm calling about. Walter, the Director
has been looking for you all yesterday. Seems
there's been some sort of hearing on your demotion.
He needs to talk to you immediately."
This was it, he thought. He was being fired. Over
the phone, no less. "Kim, can you put me into his
office?"
"Sure, hang on."
Back in the kitchen
"So there's no mention of the trial anywhere?"
Scully asked again as she placed Sammi in her
infant seat near Mulder.
"Nothing. No mention of the trial, the conviction or
the sentencing," Kallenbrunner assured her. "And I
checked the military databases as much as I could.
I have some friends in the JAG office at Miramar.
They came up with nothing, too."
"So if the trial never happened -- " Mulder started.
" -- you were never found guilty," Scully finished.
She chewed on her lip for a minute as she flipped
pancakes on the griddle.
"I'm a free man," Mulder said in a whisper.
"You were never anything but a free man. I'm not
even sure if the trial was other than a hoax, and
excuse to -- " Kallenbrunner stopped when he
glanced over at William, who was listening intently
to the adults' conversation. " -- eliminate certain
problems," he said cryptically.
Mulder snorted at being labeled a 'problem', but
understood the tact Kallenbrunner was using to
spare his son. "Then we could go back home," he
said quietly.
"Well, there is the matter of being dead. At least
that's how your disappearance was handled. When
you didn't surface with Agents Doggett and Reyes
and they both testified that they last saw you with
helicopters firing on your vehicle . . . All of that
could be overturned, of course, with proper
documentation."
Walter Skinner reappeared in the doorway, looking
shaken, but extremely happy. "I've been
reinstated," he said simply.
Scully was the first to give him a congratulatory
hug. "That's great news, Walter. Back to being an
AD, it must feel wonderful. But what happened?"
He shook his head as he sat down and Scully
dropped a plate of pancakes in front of him. "The
Director didn't give me any details. Just said that
OPR had reviewed my demotion and found some of
the testimony and evidence collected at the time
was invalid. Then he asked me if I wanted my old
title back. Of course, I said yes."
"I guess that means the FBI is finally rid of those
who were fighting against us," Mulder said
thoughtfully.
"Our friend was very busy," Kallenbrunner said
softly.
"Mulder, I hope you don't mind," Skinner
interrupted everyone's silence. "I spoke briefly on
your behalf."
Mulder's eyes narrowed but before he could speak,
Skinner jumped in. "I simply said that there might
be some evidence that you were not killed in the
desert. I didn't give him any details. Basically, I
was paving the way. If you want to come back to
your old lives, you should have that option. It's the
least I could do." He looked over at the two young
people. Mulder was avoiding everyone's looks,
even Scully's.
"Look, if what Will's Friend said was correct, there
is not longer a threat. But there are still things that
go unexplained, still cases that need your expertise.
All I'm saying is that if you want to come back, I'll
do everything in my power to make that possible.
You can come back to DC; Maggie can see the kids
whenever she wants. It will be as if the last three
years never happened."
Mulder looked down at his sleeping daughters and
back up at his former boss. "I need to put the girls
down," he said abruptly. Picking up both infant
seats, he hurried up the stairs.
"Dana, I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn," Skinner
apologized sadly.
"No, Walter, what you did was very thoughtful. We
just have a lot to think about right now."
She heard his footsteps on the stairs, but didn't
follow him out the front door. She chatted with
Skinner and Kallenbrunner and decided to give
Mulder some time. But she vowed to herself that if
he didn't reappear in an hour, she would look for
him.
Mulder hadn't intended to go running, but found his
feet in a steady rhythm on his old path. It helped a
little. The sun was out, the day was warm, but this
path ran near and through the trees, so the shade
helped cool him, along with the soft summer breeze.
He was trying hard not to think, not to let himself
imagine all the doors that were suddenly popping
open after being closed to them for so long. He ran
right past them the first time, but when they
appeared again, he had to slow down and stop.
"Hey, guys," he said, as if it were perfectly natural
to see three friends who had been dead for two
years lounging beside the side of a dirt running
path.
"Mulder, you're lookin' good," Langly said with a
smug smile.
"You took our advice," Byers said with a slight tilt
of his head.
"'Bout damn time you came to your senses,"
Frohike added. "Oh, by the way, the girls are the
spitting image of Scully. God does answer
prayers," he said with a wink.
Mulder bowed his head to accept the good-natured
abuse but raised his eyes to his soulful companions.
"We have the opportunity to go back," he said
quietly.
"Mulder, look at all you have right now. You have
a family, a woman who adores you, three kids who
need you," Byers said, ticking the points off on the
ends of his fingers. "Do you really want to screw
with that?"
"Scully wants to see her mom," Mulder interjected,
toeing at the dirt.
"I don't see where seeing Mrs. Scully and you guys
finally having a normal life are mutually exclusive,"
Frohike intoned.
"This isn't really us. We aren't the Hales. My name
isn't Ellery," Mulder pointed out.
"Yes it is. As much as it was ever Fox Mulder,"
Frohike retorted. "Mulder, you gave up everything
in that old life. You deserve this life. You deserve
to be happy. Take what you deserve. Grab hold of
it and don't let go."
"They have a point." Mulder startled when he heard
Scully's voice so close behind him. He spun and
she was standing there, smiling. "Good to see you
guys again," she said to the apparitions.
"Dana, you look truly lovely," Frohike said with a
sigh.
"What he said," Langly added.
"It's good to see you again, Dana. And the kids are
beautiful, but then how could they be otherwise?"
"Thank you, John. We're pretty proud of them."
"Mulder, all we're saying is that you have a good
thing now. Don't blow it. The threat is over, the
aliens have other things to worry about -- each other
-- and you can have this life," Frohike said
emphatically.
"But what about the Truth?" Mulder asked.
"We've seen The Truth, Mulder. We know exactly
where it is. The Truth . . . is in here, my friend."
Frohike stepped forward, lightly touching Mulder's
chest. "And here," he said, pointing to Scully.
"That's all the truth you need to know."
"If we don't go back, how will we see your mom?"
Mulder asked, his eyes glistening with tears.
Scully put her hand on her partner's arm. "Maybe
there's another way."
When they made it back to the house, Mary C. was
sitting in the kitchen, eyeing the two men across
from her. From the look in her eye, Scully figured
they were both toast if either of them moved an
inch. Mary C. was tapping her finger on the
wooden tabletop and giving them her best 'I'm the
mother of five boys, don't mess with me' look.
Skinner and Kallenbrunner appeared suitable
nervous.
"MC, we just went out for a walk," Scully said,
noting that MC had a cup of coffee in front of her
already.
"I brought by the envelopes for the labels I left
yesterday," Mary C. said evenly.
"Oh, yeah. In all the commotion, I almost forgot
about the church picnic."
Mary C. flashed her a look that said she had to be
out of her mind to forget such an important event,
but she said nothing.
"Walter, Peter, did you get a chance to meet Mary
C. Hawthorne?"
Kallenbrunner nodded meekly, Skinner just shook
his head.
"MC, this is our old boss, Assistant Director Walter
Skinner. Special Agent Peter Kallenbrunner was . .
." Scully stopped, hesitant to get into how they had
crossed path with the former prosecutor.
"We worked closely on a trial once," Kallenbrunner
supplied.
Mary C. frowned. "So you really were FBI agents,"
she said slowly.
"What we told you when Ellery was in the hospital
is absolutely the truth, MC," Scully said, sitting
down next to her friend. "All of it."
"Joe just figured you were telling us that because
you were in the Witness Protection Program, that
Ellery was an accountant for the Sopranos or
something," MC said with a shake of her head. "So
if these two have shown up on your doorstep, what
does that mean?"
Scully looked over at Skinner for a moment. "It
means we have options we didn't have before. I'm
not sure what it means yet. I know we've got some
decisions to make."
"Let us know if you need help moving," MC said in
a choked voice and stood up quickly, leaving the
room on almost a dead run. Scully caught her by
the door.
"MC, wait, please," Scully called out. "Please,
wait."
She stopped with her hand on the screen door and
turned to her friend. "Dana, I don't mean to rain on
your parade, really. It's just, well, we're gonna miss
you so much," MC said, tears streaking her cheeks.
Scully sniffed back tears of her own, but stepped
forward, taking MC into a hug. "Who says we're
going anywhere?"
"But your old life, you can have it back now. I
don't know much about it, but it meant something to
you. And your families, they're all back east
somewhere. You'll want to be closer to them,
especially with Will and the girls."
Scully pushed back so she could look her friend in
the eye. "My brother lives, or at least he was living,
in San Diego. My other brother lives in whatever
port he's assigned. My mom is used to traveling to
see her grandkids. As for Ellery, we're all the
family he has."
"You mean Mulder," MC said as she wiped at her
cheeks. "You called him Ellery."
Scully chuckled. "I think, given a chance, he'd
prefer to be called Ellery. He never really liked his
name."
That night, after dinner, Mulder watched as Scully
dialed a number on the phone. Skinner was playing
with Will in the living room, Kallenbrunner was on
a flight back to LA. It was just the two of them in
the kitchen. He knew the minute the other end of
the line picked up.
"Hello, Mom?"
Epilogue
Helena Airport
July 3, 2004
11 am
William was climbing the metal rail that cordoned
off the ticket counters. Mulder was chewing
absently on a few stray sunflower seeds he brought
in from the car. Scully was pushing the twins in
their stroller, back and forth, back and forth. With
the exception of the children, the two adults looked
more like they were waiting for their turn at the
dentist than greeting a beloved family member.
Maggie Scully had been overjoyed to hear from her
daughter. She was even more pleased to hear that
her dream was accurate, and that William was back
with his parents along with two baby sisters. There
was little to cloud the overwhelming bliss or so it
seemed until Maggie asked when they were coming
home.
Hence the apprehension of the two partners. After
some thought and discussion, both Mulder and
Scully decided to decline Skinner's offer to help
them return to their old life. Instead, they asked his
assistance in making their new identities permanent.
He had agreed and had been keeping them apprised
of his progress. By the end of the summer, Mulder
would legally be G. Ellery Hale. All that remained,
he joked uneasily, was to make Scully legal. And
that was another topic of dissent.
Scully argued that what they had was enough.
Mulder fought that if they were truly getting out of
the car, they needed to make it legal and permanent.
All this was debated while feeding and caring for
three children under the age of 4. They'd been
going back and forth on the subject for almost two
weeks and it was starting to wear on both of them.
As they were lost in thought, the first passengers
started trickling into the main concourse. Will
climbed to the top rail of the banister, anxiously
searching each face as it appeared. He'd been
studying the one photograph Scully still had of her
mother, a snapshot taken at Will's baby shower and
cut down to fit inside her wallet. Suddenly, the boy
let out a war whoop.
"It's Gran'ma! I see her, it's my Gran'ma!!" he
yelled, leaping off the railing and dodging between
adults and pull behind luggage. Mulder had to duck
to keep an eye on the child, but after a moment, the
small boy had reached his destination. When
Maggie finally appeared, she was carrying Will in
her arms, showering him with kisses.
"Oh, sweet William, Grandma has missed you so
much! Look at how big you are. But you know
what, I recognized you the minute I saw you
coming toward me. You look just like your
Mommy at your age. And I think I see a fair
amount of your Daddy in that face, too," Maggie
cooed happily. She looked over and saw her
daughter for the first time in over two years. "Oh,
Dana," she said with a gasp. "I promised myself I
wasn't going to cry!" she added, but the tears were
making a liar of her.
"Mom," Scully sobbed and threw her arms around
her mother and son. "Oh, I've missed you so much.
There have been so many times I just wanted to call
you and hear your voice," she choked out through
her tears.
Maggie looked up and saw Mulder gazing at the
reunion with a shy, hesitant smile. "C'mere, Fox!
Don't think you're getting out of this!" she chided
and reached out her arms to gather him in. Mulder
came readily. After a minute, Maggie pulled back.
"And who do we have here?" she asked, crouching
down to peer into the double stroller.
"That's Missy and that's Sammi," William explained
as he pointed to each sister in turn. "Missy's the
quiet one. Sammi likes to eat," he confided.
"So did your Mommy," Maggie told him in a stage
whisper that caused the boy to grin up at his mother.
"Thanks, Mom," Scully said dryly.
"They're beautiful," Maggie said, wiping away a
few stray tears. She caressed the cheek of each
sleeping baby and then stood up to gaze at her
daughter. "I was beginning to think I'd never see
you again," she said through fresh tears.
"Oh, Mom," Scully said, crying anew and wrapping
her mother in her arms once more.
"Daddy, why is everybody crying?" William asked,
wide eyed and concerned.
Mulder was having a bit of difficulty speaking, and
had to clear his throat before addressing his son.
"We're all just really happy, buddy. It's been a long
time since your Mommy and Grandma saw each
other and we're just glad we're all together."
"That is absolutely right," Maggie agreed
emphatically, ruffling the small boy's hair. "Now,
let's stop all this blubbering and show me around. I
don't think I've ever been to Montana."
Maggie and William talked almost all the way back
to the house, only occasionally letting the other
adults in the conversation. Will told his
grandmother about his friend and his Uncle Walter
and their other friend Agent Peter. Maggie frowned
at some of the boy's recollections, especially the
part where they were hunting in the caves for the
twins. Scully bit her lip and kept silent, Mulder
tried unsuccessfully to change the subject. Finally,
he just assured Maggie that the matter was resolved
and everyone was back safe and sound.
As they pulled up the drive Scully first frowned
slightly and then broke into a big smile. Across the
porch was a hand made sign proclaiming 'Welcome
Grandma Maggie' with tiny hand and footprints in
different colors decorating the surface.
"Meggie helped us make that, Gran'ma. The
footprints are from the babies 'coz they like to put
their hands in their mouths," he explained seriously.
Maggie held back a chuckle and nodded at him.
"Babies will do that, yes," she said.
As Mulder put the car in park and killed the engine,
Maggie looked in wonder at the house.
Construction was still proceeding, despite a few
days delay and the new addition was finally taking
shape. As they got out of the car, a couple and
several red headed children all came out of the
house and rushed toward the car.
"Mom said we have to carry the luggage, Mr. Hale,"
one boy explained with a slight frown.
"Thanks, Jimbo. It's in the trunk here."
"Mom, I want you to meet the Hawthornes. This is
Mary C. and her husband Joe. The tall boy is their
son Josh, then Jimmy, Sean and the little guy is
Stephen and this beautiful young lady is our
mother's helper, Megan," Scully told her mother
with a bright smile. "Everyone, this is my mother,
Margaret Scully."
Mary C. stepped forward. "It's really a pleasure to
meet you, Mrs. Scully."
"Oh please, call me Maggie. You have such
beautiful children! And so many!"
"Well, I hear you raised four with a husband at sea,"
MC said with a grin. "But then, sometimes I think
Joe's been at sea for years," she teased.
"Hale, I'm getting grief from the woman again," Joe
said with a fake pout and sigh.
"MC, stop giving Joe grief," Mulder recited,
obviously the expected result to Joe's plea.
Mary C. laughed, as did Scully and Maggie. "Oh,
c'mon. Dana, we brought fried chicken and potato
salad. Oh, and Meg made up some PBJs for Will.
There's iced tea and lemonade in the fridge. Call us
if you need anything, OK?"
"Aren't you guys staying for lunch?" Mulder asked
as they all headed for the Hawthornes' Town and
Country.
"Hell, no! We didn't bring _that_ much food!" Joe
exclaimed. "Besides, you guys are coming over for
a cookout tomorrow night. We'll visit then." He
stepped over to lean in close to Mulder. "As
mothers-in-law go, she seems like an OK lady," he
said in a whisper.
Mulder smiled. "She's a keeper, Joe," he replied.
Jimmy had set the luggage up in William's room,
which would be the guest room during Maggie's
visit. Maggie wandered through the downstairs
with Scully, her daughter pointing out various items
of interest with the enthusiasm of a real estate
saleswoman. When they'd finished the tour upstairs
in the babies' nursery, Maggie turned and looked at
her daughter.
"This is your home," she said evenly.
Scully bit her lip, slightly flustered at her mother's
tone. "Yes, Mom. This is our home. And when it's
finished, it's even going to be better. Mulder will
have an office, the kids will have their own rooms --
"
"What I mean is, this is your _home_, Dana,"
Maggie repeated. "When I came out here, I was
intent on convincing you all to move back to DC,
maybe even Baltimore if I could manage it. I
wanted you to be close to me." Tears started to fill
her eyes and her voice strained as she continued.
"But I see that you have a home here. You have
friends who love you and help you, and a lovely
house that looks so right for you. I can't ask you to
leave this," she said, finally letting the tears streak
down her cheeks.
"Oh, Mom," Dana said, taking her mother in her
arms. "We'll visit, I promise. Mulder promises,
too. Christmas, Easter, summer vacations when
school is out, we'll come out east. And you are
always welcome here! Now you have the ocean
and the mountains as vacation spots."
Maggie smiled through her tears. "Well, I always
wanted a little retreat in the mountains."
"I hear sniffling in here. Look, I'll allow it today,
but tomorrow, no more crying," Mulder said with a
twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He was carrying
both twins and Will was hanging on his leg.
"You are absolutely right, Fox, no more crying!"
Maggie said, taking one of the babies in her arms.
"Ellery, Mom. His name is Ellery now," Dana said
softly.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I keep forgetting. You mean you'll
let people call you Ellery when Fox upset you so?"
Maggie asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief
also.
"It's not a small, furry, woodland creature. I can
live with Ellery. Even if I would have been
roughed up on the playground just as much growing
up. But since I didn't go through that, I'm fine with
it."
"I still get to call him Mulder," Dana confided only
to her mother. "MC makes wonderful fried chicken
and I'm sure there's enough to feed an army, so let's
go down to the kitchen and eat."
Will tugged on his father's leg as the others started
down the stairs. "Can we take Gran'am and show
her the old man?"
"After lunch, buddy," Mulder advised. "We'll show
her everything!"
"Except the bad guy in the cave," Will nodded.
"You're right, buddy. We'll definitely skip the bad
guy in the cave. Remember, we don't talk about
that around your grandma."
"She'd get scared?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Mulder allowed.
"OK, Dad. It'll be our secret! I hope Meggie made
my sam'wich. I don' like fry chicken."
Mulder sighed. What else could he expect from
their son? The whole incident seemed to have run
off the little boy like water on a duck's back. He
just wondered if Skinner could arrange to keep the
X Files on hold until Will was out of college.
the end